AZ2 Fatal Recall
by KennaC
Summary: What really happened the day the Team robbed the Bank of Hanoi? A woman from Murdock's past may have the truth of that fateful day locked in her memory. But can the Team find the key in time to save her and Murdock - and their daughter. Usual disclaimers!
1. Part 1: Chance Encounter: Ch 1 thru 8

**FATAL RECALL**

Synopsis: What happened the day the Team robbed the Bank of Hanoi? A woman from Murdock's past has the answers locked in her memory. Can the Team help her find the key in time to save them all?

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the A-Team, just like to play with them in my warped little mind. I make no money from this, just the enjoyment of spinning a good tale about my favorite fantasy soldiers.

Author's Notes: This is the final, edited version of the story. I do my own editing, so any errors are mine and mine alone. I would like to thank Buffalo1fromSalem, C.A. Connor, and Kristen for sticking with me through the cold posting of the draft chapters, and making comments and suggestions about the story as we went. It was a great process, and their feedback helped me to craft a better story. Thanks!

**For those who have been following the draft postings: You do not need to re-read everything, though it probably reads better than the original. Simply skip to the Finale. Thanks for sticking with me.**

**Prologue to Chapter 1**

A tall, handsome man, with golden brown eyes and a shaved head just showing the stubble of dark hair, trimmed hedges outside McLean High School. He was enjoying the physical labor. As the trimmer hummed over the bushes, his mind was free to evaluate his current plan of action, yet again, and tighten it, yet again. If all went well, Sydney Wilson and her daughter would be joining him on a lengthy hiatus from their mundane existence. He had enough money put away for them to live quite comfortably in a tropical paradise of their choosing. If all went well.

If all did not go well, he had contingencies. The schedule the good doctor had laid out was too protracted for his comfort, but there was little he could do to shorten it without risking Sydney's mental health. The longer the schedule, the more chance for things to go wrong, and the more important planning for contingencies became.

That was why he was here today. He turned the electric hedge trimmer off and checked his tool belt. He patted the satellite phone tucked into the place where a tape measure normally would have been stored. It was wedged into the compartment tightly, so he didn't think he would lose it, but he didn't like to take chances.

He had been careful to ensure that his work took him to the front of the building in time for dismissal. His timing was perfect, as usual; he would be sweeping off the front steps right on schedule.

Upon school release he would be able to catch Syd's daughter and give her the sat-phone. She was predisposed to aid the handsome man who knew her mother as an old friend. Yes, she would gladly take the sat-phone as an insurance policy, he was certain of it. It wasn't as good as being able to put a 24-hour detail on them, but at least once this chore was complete he could track them, if necessary.

He turned the trimmers back on and shaped the bush precisely. No matter how menial the job, it was essential to do it right.

**CHAPTER 1: Not So Blissful Ignorance**

"The anxiety attacks have been worsening, ever since we moved here." Alexis Smith sat across the expansive mahogany desk from Dr. David Asher, in a large, wing-backed leather chair that made her feel vaguely like Lily Tomlin's Edith Ann.

Asher looked over his half-moon glasses at her. "So move back to Chicago. I still can't fathom why you moved _from_ Chicago in the first place." He sat back and folded his hands across his generous stomach. "Perhaps you can enlighten me?"

She winced at the doctor's derogatory tone. Asher was the first American doctor she met after she woke in a field hospital in Laos in February of 1972. With no memory of her own identity, she had latched on to the capable and reassuring psychiatrist as a lifeline to sanity. For the past fifteen years she had bared her soul to the man; or at least what she could recall of it. He helped her work out her anger, her anxiety, her excessive mood swings, and her lingering paranoia; but in all those years, he had been unable, or perhaps unwilling, to help her recover her identity. She unclasped her hands and ran thumbs over scarred finger tips – a constant reminder of the mystery of her former existence.

She lifted her chin. "I told you why we moved." She had been quite open with him about her reasons; after all, that had been over two years ago, when she still trusted him. She vividly remembered unfolding the newspaper that day after Haley left for school. The headline 'LA Boys Take Down Local Mobster' splashed across the front page. Below the title were military photos of three men, purportedly living in the LA underground as soldiers-for-hire, calling themselves the A-Team. Normally, she would have skimmed the article and moved on, but she found herself staring at the pictures. She felt particularly drawn to the Lieutenant, but the other two were also familiar. She was sure she knew them. She called Asher in her excitement, since she had to share the news with someone. That was just before she had one of the worst anxiety attacks she could recall. Thus began her fixation on the A-Team, and the slow, but inexorable deterioration of her relationship with Dr. Asher.

"The A-Team, yes I remember. Your continuing obsession with them is not healthy. Those men were executed last year, Alexis. It's time you accepted that and moved on."

She allowed his words to hang in the air, fueling her self-doubt. He had become progressively critical after she moved to LA in search of the A-Team. Asher didn't maintain an office in LA, so other than long-distance phone calls and an aborted visit to one of his colleagues, the move allowed her the time and distance to dissociate herself from him. It had been liberating in many ways, even though her efforts to find the A-Team were frustrated at every turn by the Military Police.

Normally, Asher would sit and patiently wait her out, allowing the silence to work its own medicine on her, but not today. After a minute, he shifted, and stood – unusual signs of agitation in the staid doctor. "Alexis, I ask you again: If it bothers you so much being in Virginia, then why do you insist on staying? The A-Team is not here."

But Alexis had heard differently. It began as a whisper, built to a murmur and became a legend in the underground of LA; a world she had become intimately familiar with. The heroes were not dead. They had been spirited away to Langley, Virginia, forced to work for the corrupt government that had scorned them. So Alexis had uprooted her daughter, yet again and moved her all the way across the country in search of a group of renegade Robin Hoods. Sometimes she really did think she was losing her mind.

She took a deep breath and blew it out. "The A-Team is not why I'm still here."

Asher moved around the desk. "If not them, then what?"

In her minds eye Alexis saw the three men, side by side in a photo with one end ripped off. The missing piece fluttered into the mists of her fickle memory. It was that piece that she desperately wanted to find. She decided to sidestep the real question. Asher wouldn't like the answer, anyway. "This is a new start for us. And I don't want to totally upheave our life again, so soon after our move from LA"

Asher leaned against the front of the desk and crossed his arms. "You've only been in McLean a few weeks. Surely, if you told your daughter you were moving back to Chicago she would be happy about it. You said she's been homesick."

"Chicago is out of the question." Chicago felt empty, lonely.

Asher cleared his throat. "Alexis." He spoke in his most soothing tone, even going so far as to place a gentle hand on her knee. She forced herself not to flinch at the touch. "Please, make another move, maybe back to LA, or to somewhere else on the west coast; or in the Midwest for that matter. Find a place where you and Haley can relax and live your lives. This renewed pursuit of your lost past is proving stressful and I fear unhealthy."

"How can knowing who I am be unhealthy?"

"We've talked about this, Alexis. Even intense hypnotherapy did not unlock your memory. I have to believe that whatever is in your past, it's too painful for your conscious mind to contemplate. Let the past be, and live your life now. If not for yourself, then do it for Haley."

Haley, the child she was carrying when she awoke in Laos. The girl who was born seven weeks premature and through some miracle lived and grew to be a beautiful, intelligent, and curious young woman. A young woman who encouraged Alexis every time a flash of long-forgotten memory became her next obsession. Haley would want to stay and find out what they could. She ached to know who her father was -- and who her mother had been -- almost as much as Alexis herself did.

"I'll take it under advisement." She looked at her watch and stood, moving away from Asher. "I have to get going."

Asher crossed his arms. "I think we should discuss this further."

"Not now, I have to go." At Asher's disapproving gaze, she sighed. "I'm not avoiding, doctor. I really do have to go. I have to get to the high school to pick up Haley."

"You'll be back tomorrow?"

"I want to get unpacked. I think that may help with the anxiety more than anything else."

Asher leaned across his desk. When he turned back to Alexis, he held out a pill bottle. "Here, take these. They'll help you sleep. Just follow the instructions on the label."

She tucked the pills into her purse. "Thank you."

"Please be back in on Friday, Alexis. And if you need to see me before then, don't hesitate to call. I'll be in Langley all week."

She pressed her lips into a thin smile. "Of course."

* * *

Captain H.M. 'Howlin' Mad' Murdock, jumped when the phone in his tiny apartment rang. He dropped the Rolling Stone magazine he was reading, and grabbed the phone. "Al's Aviary Abode, which cage do ya want?"

"Huh?" Lieutenant Templeton 'Faceman' Peck's grunt was unmistakable to his best friend.

Murdock sighed. Face didn't sound like he was in the mood to joke with him today. He looked at his watch: 2:15pm. "I'll be leaving in about 15 minutes, Faceman. Hannibal said 3 o'clock, right?"

"Um, that's why I called."

Murdock groaned. "You're not canceling on me?"

"Afraid so . . ." Face's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Stockwell's dug in here. Hannibal thinks it's probably best if you make yourself scarce for now. We're hoping that he's working on the pardons, and you just tend to – well, you know, irritate him. I'll call when the coast is clear."

"Yeah, OK. Bye." Murdock put the phone down and looked at the table. The want ads created a backdrop to all of the other reading material he had used for the day to avoid looking at them. The last mission had been timed such that he held his most recent job only three weeks. The thought of looking for another one didn't enthrall him, especially with the pardons so close. Who knew where they would end up? It seemed a waste to get a job at this point.

He glanced into the little galley kitchen, and frowned. If he wasn't going to the compound, that meant no pot roast for dinner. Damn. His gaze landed on the grocery list hanging on the refrigerator. The cupboards were getting kind of empty. He shrugged into his leather jacket, grabbed the list, and headed out the door. If he couldn't have Hannibal's pot roast, he'd just have to go buy some comfort food of his own.

* * *

Alexis pulled her little blue compact car up in front of McLean High School, and waited. She opened her purse and pulled out the pills Dr. Asher had given her. Opening the bottle, she spilled the pills out into her hand. Thirty little pills to 'help her sleep.' She dumped them back into the bottle and shoved it into her purse. She would dispose of them once she got home. She firmly believed, no matter what the good doctor told her, that medication was not the answer to her problems. She was beginning to think Asher might just _be_ the problem.

Teenagers began trickling out of the school, and Alexis smiled when she saw her daughter come out arm in arm with another girl. Haley towered over the shorter girl by at least half a foot. At 5'10", she was taller than most of her class mates, as well as Alexis, who was barely 5'4" herself.

The two girls stopped just outside the door. That was when Alexis noticed the tall, bald man standing in the shadows. Whatever he said made the girls laugh, but Alexis was bothered by the fact that Haley hung back to continue talking to him, while her friend bounced down the steps to catch up to another group of girls in the yard. Buses began pulling into the drive between Alexis and the school and she lost sight of Haley.

She was debating whether to go retrieve her daughter personally, when she caught sight of Haley and her friend on the sidewalk, between two busses. The two girls hugged and waved goodbye as they went their separate ways. Haley ran toward the car, her long legs carrying her quickly across the parking lot.

Haley folded her thin frame into the passenger seat and dumped the backpack over her shoulder. "Hi, Mom! How was your day?"

"OK. How was yours?" Alexis left the car off. The line of traffic was going to prevent immediate exit anyway.

"Great! Lisa asked if I could come over this coming weekend. Her grandfather is taking her to the Smithsonian complex for her birthday, and said she could bring a friend. Can I go?" Haley's warm, brown eyes were pleading.

"I would like to meet Lisa's folks first."

"You could drop me off Friday and meet them then."

"Alright. But, if for any reason I decide you can't go at that time, I don't want any arguments. Understood?"

"Mom, the Cheneys are normal people. What possible reason would you have for not letting me stay?"

"I don't know, but if I say you're coming home with me on Friday, that's that."

Haley slumped in the seat and crossed her arms. "If you're going to embarrass me, I'll just stay home."

Alexis shrugged. "If that's what you want. By the way, who was that you were talking to when you left?"

Haley's brow furrowed. "Lisa, I just told you."

"Not Lisa. The man you spoke to just outside the school."

Haley shook her head and answered quickly. "Just one of the janitors." She laced her hands together as if about to pray and turned to her mother with an exaggerated pleading look on her face. "Please, Mom. Please just let me go with Lisa. I promise, I won't get kidnapped, raped, assaulted . . . or whatever else it is you're so worried about."

"You promise, huh?" Alexis sighed. "You know I'm just trying to protect –"

"Protect me, yeah, I know. But you've been acting weirder than usual since we got to Virginia. Did you go see Dr. Asher today?"

Alexis cleared her throat. "Yes, I saw Dr. Asher today."

"What did he say about the anxiety attacks and the paranoia?"

"I have not been acting paranoid!"

Haley raised her eyebrows. "Mom, remember our honesty pledge."

"You never let me forget." Alexis rolled her head and started the car. "I went and saw Asher, today, like we agreed I would. He thinks . . ." She reviewed the conversation in her head and chose her words carefully as she pulled into the thinning traffic in the drive. "He thinks we need to talk again. I'm going to get the unpacking done, so we feel more settled in, then go see him again on Friday. We'll see if things have improved."

"Good. I'm glad you went to see him. You seem more settled then you were this morning."

Alexis nodded in response as she pulled out onto the road from the school drive. She often found herself wondering who the parent was in her and Haley's relationship. Her daughter was far more familiar with psychiatric therapy than a girl her age should be. At 14, she should be thinking about school and boys – not obsessing about her mother's ongoing mental problems.

* * *

Murdock pulled into the neighborhood grocery store located a few blocks from his apartment, and parked his little red truck. It wasn't cherry, like the one he won on the Wheel of Fortune, but it was a nice little pickup. He grabbed a cart from the corral he parked next to, and whistled the William Tell Overture as he road it across the parking lot and into the store.

* * *

Alexis pulled into the parking lot for the grocery store nearest their new neighborhood, and Haley groaned. "I thought you were going to go shopping before you picked me up."

"I didn't get a chance - since I went to see Dr. Asher." Alexis smiled at her daughter. "Besides, I thought we could pick out some treats. I got the living room unpacked this morning, and the TV and VCR set up. Maybe we can stop and pick up a couple movies and relax tonight in our new digs."

"Mom, people _do not_ say 'digs' anymore." Haley rolled her eyes as she hopped out of the car. She stopped and pointed. "Now this is what I'm talking about, Mother. We need a little red pickup like this one."

Alexis looked at the truck in the adjacent parking spot, and shook her head. "I like our car just fine."

"I cannot be seen driving that little blue, four-banger, Mother." Haley said. "A nice red pickup would be perfect. And just think how convenient it would be for hauling things around."  
"What kinds of things?" Alexis grabbed a cart as they passed the corral.

"Like our things. Like when we move we wouldn't have to hire a moving company."

"Who says we're moving, again?" Alexis snapped. "We just got here. What's your hurry?"

Haley slid between her mother and the cart. "No hurry. I like it here." She put a red-sneakered foot up on the back of the cart, and pushed off, gliding to a stop by the sliding door.

Alexis looked up at her daughter when she caught up to her and shook her head. "It's a grocery cart, Haley Marie, not a skate board."

Haley grinned. "Works almost as good as one."

* * *

Murdock glided to the end of the first aisle and hopped off the cart by the dairy section to pick up whole milk, eggs, cheese, and tortillas, before turning the corner and heading for breakfast foods.

*

Alexis turned into the first aisle and froze as she watched a leather jacket with a faded tiger on the back disappear around the end of the aisle. The Flying Tigers had been an early obsession of hers, back when she first returned to the states. Unfortunately, the group pre-dated her international trip, and she was never able to determine how her own history could be related to the aerial group of World War II fame. But the glimpse of the man wearing the jacket with the tiger on it sparked a flurry of disjointed images flashing through her mind. She hurried down the aisle.

*

"Mom, where are you going? We need bananas." Haley huffed in aggravation as her mother kept moving away, oblivious to her calls from the produce section at the head of the first aisle.

She grabbed a bunch of bananas and jogged to catch up with Alexis, grabbing her by the arm as she was about to round the end of the aisle. "Wait, aren't milk and eggs on your list, too?" She dropped the bananas into the cart.

*

Alexis shook her head. "Uh, yeah, we need . . .," she pulled out her list and looked at it, as the images faded into the recesses of her erratic memory. "Milk, eggs, cheese and orange juice."

*

In the breakfast aisle, Murdock grinned as he approached a man loading the last of a pallet of pastries onto the shelf. "Hey, Joe. What's good today?"

The gray-haired stocker returned the smile. "Hello, HM. I would recommend the strawberry toaster pastries. Fresh off the truck today!"

"Hook me up, buddy!"

*

The voices carried over the shelves between the aisles, and Alexis froze. The voice, HM, she was sure she knew that voice. More images flashed through her head. She closed her eyes and messaged her temples, trying to hold some of them in the conscious part of her mind.

*

Haley put a hand on her mother's arm. "Are you alright, Mom? That's the second time you've zoned out since we walked in the store."

"I don't know . . ."

"Maybe we should just head home. We can order pizza tonight and do the grocery-shopping tomorrow." Haley was worried. Her mother's face was pale, and she could see beads of sweat forming on her forehead, even though the store was chilly.

*

Alexis sighed as the memories faded, again. "No, we're here. Let's finish up." A gray-haired man nodded to her as he rolled an empty pallet past her at the end of the first aisle. She nodded absently and rounded the end cap to enter the next aisle. Her eyes fixed on the man examining cereal ahead of her.

She left the cart and moved forward, scrutinizing him as she approached slowly. Tall and thin, with brown hair curling out from under a blue baseball cap, and that jacket – she was certain she should know who he was.

She vaguely heard Haley calling to her, "Mom, you forgot the car . . . Mom?"

*

Murdock lifted his head when he heard a girl call out to her mother, her voice sounded mildly distressed. But what he saw made him drop the cereal box he was holding. "Syd?"

He turned to face the woman now immobile in the middle of the aisle. "Sydney?" It felt like someone was standing on his chest. "Syd, is that you?" He slid around his cart and took a step toward the apparition that stood in front of him. It felt like his feet were planted in concrete as he tried to move toward her, and it occurred to him that this was probably a dream. Any minute he would wake up.

*

Alexis couldn't take her eyes off of him – HM . . . Murdock. The name floated through her head. She knew him. More images, flashing in fast-forward now, like a reel to reel movie out of control. His face, younger, thinner, settled in her mind's eye with an expression that made her knees weak. She tried to focus on the man in front of her. He was talking to her, but his voice was muffled by the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. Her head felt like it was going to splinter into a million pieces, over-loaded by the onslaught of memories associated with HM Murdock. Her vision tunneled.

*

Murdock lunged forward and caught her just before she hit the floor. A tall girl came running forward. "Oh my God, Mom? Mom, are you alright?"

Murdock patted her face and marveled at the solidity of it. She was real. "Sydney. Syd. C'mon, wakey, wakey."

The girl gaped at him. "Her name is Alexis . . . I . . . I think."

It wasn't Sydney. Murdock felt disappoint hit him like a sucker punch. "Alexis. I could have sworn – wait a minute . . ." He looked up at the girl. "What do you mean, 'I think'?"

The girl's face reflected as much confusion as Murdock felt. The woman emitted a soft moan; she was starting to come around. The girl standing above him dropped to her knees. "Oh my God! Is she going to be alright? Mom?"

Murdock's grip on the woman had tightened, and he consciously forced himself to loosen it. Maybe this wasn't Sydney, just his overactive imagination seeing what he wanted to see. He focused on the girl. "She's your mother?"

She nodded, wringing her hands in worry. "She's been acting strange ever since . . . well, since we got here."

Joe came running forward, leaving another pallet of stock sitting in the middle of the aisle. "Jesus, what happened? Should I call 911, HM?"

Before Murdock could respond, the prone woman's eyes sprang open, the familiar sky blue fooling his suggestible mind into hoping again.

She shook her head. "No! Don't call anyone. I'm fine."

Murdock stared at her, she even sounded like Sydney. But it couldn't be. Sydney was dead. "I kinda think paramedics might be a good idea."

She pushed herself to a sitting position. "I said I'm fine. No medics."

Murdock swallowed, she definitely sounded like Sydney; could be her doppelganger even. He sat back on his knees, but kept close enough to catch her in case she fainted again. "You're the boss."

She turned and looked at him, unblinking, while a muddle of emotions flittered across her broad, expressive face.

Murdock felt his heart lurch. The sky-blue eyes staring at him out of that lovely face were unmistakable. It had to be her. "Sydney?"  
"HM." Her face finally settled into a tentative smile. She nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm Sydney Wilson. And you're HM Murdock."

Emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He reached out a hand to brush her cheek. She was still solid, real. He had almost convinced himself that it wasn't her. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "I can't believe you're alive."

"Mom? Do you remember?"

Unshed tears glistened in Sydney's eyes. "I remember."

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 2**

Isaac Cheney half-listened as his granddaughter, Lisa chattered on about her day. "And Haley said she'd ask her Mom if she could come with us to the Smithsonian this weekend. Oh, Gramps, I think you'll like Haley. She's really smart, and funny."

Isaac, or Ike as most people knew him, wished he could just enjoy his granddaughter's dissertation on the minutiae of her day. He felt he owed that to her. After all, he had taken advantage of her unreserved extroversion. A few gentle suggestions were all it took to get Lisa to befriend the new girl at school. It was fortunate, for him, that Lisa was the same age as Haley – the manipulated connection had given him the in he needed to insert himself into an investigation in which he had a vested interest.

It had been a shock to many in the Company when Haley's mother, Sydney Wilson showed up in McLean, Virginia three weeks ago. Semi-retired, Ike only went into the office a couple times a week and had nearly missed the tremors. Sydney Wilson was supposed to be dead – according to official records, she was killed in shelling on a military base in Vietnam on January 27, 1972.

Fortunately for him, he had always been quick on his feet. He had himself assigned as a consultant on the case in short order. With his current personal connection to Haley, and his historic knowledge of the players involved, it had been an easy sell.

The knee-jerk reaction of the higher-ups had been to pull her in and find out what the hell had happened. Ike had nipped that in the bud. If they were going to drop the net, he wanted to make sure it fell precisely. That was going to require some delicate maneuvering. To Ike it was as if fate had dropped Sydney Wilson in his lap. She would be irresistible bait to his target: a man who was no fool, and was already on-guard.

"So Gramps, do you think we'll have time to see all of the museums?" Lisa asked.

"Hm, oh, no, there are too many for a single day, but we can always go back," Ike said. "Where do you want to start?"

"You suggested the Air and Space Museum. You said you knew some of the guys that are in there, right? Haley said she's always wanted to take flying lessons. I think that would be a great place to start. Then maybe we could . . ."

As Lisa rambled on, making plans for the weekend, he had to smile. It was times like this that he was glad he accepted his son's offer of a place to live. The cottage he now called home had started as little more than a garden shack. With the help of a specialty contractor suggested by his former colleague, Hunt Stockwell, he had renovated it into a bachelor's pad that suited Ike perfectly. It was private, and secluded, with its own rear entrance to the grounds, and all the electronic bells and whistles that an old spy was accustomed to. Best of all, it was close enough to give him a chance to reacquaint himself with his family. All he had to do was wrap this last little project up and he should be able to retire for good.

**CHAPTER 2: Filling in Some Blanks**

It felt like the last 15 years had melted away, as Sydney stared at HM Murdock. He had put on weight since they'd met in Vietnam, but he had the same open face and warm brown eyes. His voice, his smell, everything about him was achingly familiar.

His eyes were locked on her, now, and she knew she could lose herself in them. She was replaying the last time they were together before . . . she felt a jolt of frustration. Before what? She still couldn't remember what had landed her in a hospital in Laos. The last place she remembered being before that was the supply shed on base – arguing with Murdock about the Team's upcoming mission.

Murdock's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Do you think you can stand?"

"Um, yeah."

He took her hand and helped her up off the cold linoleum floor, his other hand sliding naturally to the small of her back. Once they were standing, he moved closer to her, his gaze worried. "You sure you're alright?"

She became aware of Haley, hovering at her other side.

"Mom, m-maybe we should go to the hospital."

"No. I'm fine. I think the rush of memories was just . . . a little overwhelming, that's all. Let's . . . let's go home." Her eyes locked on Murdock as she considered the phrasing of that statement. "I think we need to sit down and talk."

Murdock's brows were drawn tight. "What do you mean, 'rush of memories?'"

Sydney took a deep breath. "Until a few seconds ago, I didn't know who I was, let alone you."

He searched her face, glanced at Haley and nodded. "We . . . definitely need to talk."

Murdock still held her hand in a firm grip, like he was afraid if he let go she might disappear. Sydney knew how he felt, but Haley looked freaked out. She squeezed his fingers, and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she stepped away from him.

She turned and took Haley's hand. "Are you ok, honey?"

Haley glanced at Murdock uncertainly, but nodded. "I'm ok, if you are."

"HM is . . . a good friend, Haley," Sydney said. She put a hand on the cart. "We should put the groceries back . . ."

Joe stepped forward. "It's alright, ma'am. I'll take care of that."

Sydney smiled at him. "Thank you."

*

As Sydney and Haley started down the aisle toward the front of the store, Joe leaned into Murdock. "She's new around her. How do you know her, HM? Is she some kind of amnesiac?"

"New?"

"Just started coming in the store a week or two ago."

Murdock He pushed his cart to the stocker. "Could you put my groceries back, too, Joe?"

"Sure thing, HM. See ya later?" Curiosity burned in Joe's face.

Murdock didn't blame him, but he didn't have time to satisfy it right now, if he even could. He had more questions than answers, himself.

Sydney and her daughter were rounding the end of the aisle, about to disappear from his line of vision. He waved at Joe absently as he hurried after them. He was terrified of letting Sydney out of his sight.

Out in the parking lot, Sydney and Haley stopped at a little blue compact car parked next to his truck. He followed Sydney to the driver's side, and leaned on the window after she closed the door. "So, where are we going?"

She gave him the address, and his eyes went wide. "That's just around the corner from my apartment. How long have you lived there?"

"Just a couple weeks." She reached her right hand over and brushed his where it rested. "Let's get to the house. Then we'll talk." She glanced over at Haley. "We'll all talk."

Murdock nodded, and stood. "I'll follow you."

"Where's your car?"

"I'm in the red truck right here." Murdock nodded to the adjacent parking space.

"You own the red truck?" Haley asked with a smile.

Murdock leaned down and reflected her smile. "Yep."

"Cool."  
Murdock followed Sydney out onto the four lane road in front of the grocery store. Now that the shock of finding her was wearing off, he was wondering where the hell she had been for the last fifteen years.

And why had he come back from the war in a straight jacket because he thought she was dead?

* * *

Haley watched her mother out of the corner of her eye. Her excitement at the prospect of learning about her mother's past was countered by anxiety. She had followed Alexis Smith for the last three years on an increasingly-obsessive quest to find her identity. But what now? She didn't know Sydney Wilson.

"It's still me, honey," her mother said.

Haley started, and then smiled. When she was younger she thought her mother could read her mind and had eyes in the back of her head. But now she knew that it was keen observational skill that allowed her to anticipate actions and questions. Over time Haley had watched and learned, and now prided herself on her own abilities.

She glanced over her shoulder, at the little red truck that followed them down their street and into the driveway. She really liked that truck, but she was keenly curious about its driver. "Who is he?"

"Captain HM Murdock . . ." her mother's eyes narrowed. "Your father. I think."

Haley stared at her in shock. "You're not sure?"

She put the car in park and stared out the window for a moment. "I don't believe it could have been anyone else, but I find that perhaps my memory recovery isn't totally complete."

"You have to be kidding me."

"I'm sorry, honey, it's the best I can do."

HM appeared at the driver's-side window. He cast a tense glance toward the road, then looked down at Sydney. "Is everything alright in here?"

"Does he know?" Haley asked.

He pursed his lips. "I can guess."

* * *

Murdock sat in the living room, staring at the tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed girl in silence. Sydney paced back and forth in his line of vision, her blue eyes, honey hair, and short stature a stark contrast to her daughter – his daughter. He was barely controlling the urge to walk over to Haley and give her a huge bear hug. He wasn't sure he'd let go. The words kept echoing through his head: he had a daughter. It all felt like some crazy dream, and he kept thinking that any minute he was going to wake up.

"I know it was only that one night, but there was no one else, HM. There is still a period of time that's really hazy, including an entire month or so in the hospital . . ."

"While she was in a coma," Haley inserted. "That was before I was born."

"And they didn't know I was pregnant."

"The doctor said it was a miracle I was born without any lasting effects from the drugs," Haley said.

Murdock shook his head slowly. "How do you know so much about this?"

Haley crossed her arms and directed a stern look at him that made him smile. He couldn't help it. She walked across to the couch and sat rigidly next to him, her expression serious. "We have a strict rule in our home. No lies – ever. Mom always tells me the truth. It's our honesty pact. And since you are apparently part of the family, you're bound by it, too."

Murdock pressed his lips into a thin line and glanced up at Sydney, who was looking at her daughter worriedly. "You can't hold him to a pact you and I made eight years ago, Haley," Sydney said. "HM has other promises that may prevent him from . . . being entirely truthful."

Haley turned her familiar and intent brown eyes on him. "Do you promise to tell the truth as much as possible?"

"I'll tell you what I can," he offered. "Unfortunately, I have some memory problems with that general time-frame myself."

"Jesus!" Haley launched off the couch. "Does faulty memory run in the family or something? Am I going to lose my mind when I get older?"

"Haley Marie Smith that was uncalled for." Bright red spots appeared on Syd's high cheeks. "You have no idea what we went through at the end of the war."

"Obviously neither do you!"

"That's not entirely true," Murdock stood up and moved toward Syd. The general pallor of her face worried him after the blackout in the store. He was careful to keep his voice quiet and even. "I remember all but the last few hours of that day. You know, I really think you should give your mom a break – she remembered an awful lot for one day. Don't you think?"

"Let's get one thing straight." Haley turned to face him, her arms crossed. "You may be my biological father, but that doesn't make you my boss. I don't even know who you are."

Sydney opened her mouth, but Murdock shook his head slightly as he put an arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the couch to sit. Being close to her was incredibly distracting, and it took every ounce of self-control not to sink onto the couch with her and gather her in his arms. He had an overwhelming urge to cocoon himself somewhere with the two of them and spend the rest of his life catching up. But there were problems with that idea, and as it became more and more apparent that this wasn't a dream, the reality of the situation he had observed on the way into the house was starting to register.

He turned resolutely away from Syd and took a couple steps toward Haley. "I'm not trying to act like your father. But it would seem to me common courtesy to consider just what your mom has been through in the last hour. You need to cut her some slack."

Haley blinked at him, and her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Mom." His eyes followed her, and he found himself distracted again, as she slid onto the couch and gripped Sydney's hands. "Can I get you a drink of water, or a cup of coffee?"

Sydney smiled at her daughter. "I'm fine, really. I'm as frustrated as you are, honey. I'm hoping that the rest of my memory will come back over time."

"But it may not." Murdock found himself in the odd position of offering some realistic perspective. "Sometimes traumatic experiences are never recovered. It's something we may just have to accept."

"We should call Dr. Asher," Haley said.

Murdock was gazing at Sydney, and saw the uncertainty reflected in her clear blue eyes. "Who's Dr. Asher?"

"Mom's therapist," Haley said. "I've known him all my life. He's really good."

"Not that good – he never has been able to help me remember who I am." Sydney glanced at Murdock, and then patted Haley's hand. "Maybe I will take a cup of coffee, if you don't mind making it."

Haley jumped up and disappeared into the kitchen.

Murdock turned on the television and increased the volume before taking Haley's spot next to Sydney on the couch, careful not to touch her, and intent on sorting out what was going on. "I notice you haven't told Haley about your former profession."

Sydney sighed. "I'd like to keep the life-altering information dumps to one a day. Let's get her used to the idea that she has a father."

"I'm afraid that may not be possible, Syd." Murdock glanced toward the window. "How long has that white panel van been sitting outside your house?"

Sydney's face blanched. "Jesus. There's been at least one panel van on the street for the last week, bearing one company logo or another. You think they're watching us?"

"I'd bet on it. This place is probably crawling with bugs. God knows what they're looking for. Hopefully my appearance doesn't set them off."

"You think it would?" Sydney's brows drew together. "I mean, that would imply that someone is still worried about something that happened during the war. That seems kind of far-fetched."

"I'd agree, except that it was only last year that Curtis shows up alive, accusing the A-Team of a murder we didn't even know occurred. Then Morrison's body was miraculously recovered from Vietnam with two bullet holes in it. And now, you show up, very much alive. We thought all three of you had been killed in the base bombing that day, but obviously something much shadier was going on. What happened to you the day of the Bank of Hanoi job?"

Sydney shook her head. "I can't remember anything after you left the supply shed that morning."

"I remember dropping the guys off at the LZ and starting back to base. After that it gets hazy. We make a hell of a pair, don't we?" He smiled at her, covered her hands with his before remembering that he wasn't going to touch her. The contact prompted a flood of memories and emotions that he didn't have time for right now. "God I missed you, Syd. I wish we could just sit here for the next year and get reacquainted, but we're gonna have to move. My gut is telling me it's not safe here."

"Where are we going to go?" Syd glanced worriedly at the kitchen. "I don't know anyone around here, except Asher, and I don't trust him. He's probably up to his eyeballs in whatever's going on."

"We've gotta get to the compound and talk to Hannibal. We'll be safe there. I just need to get to a pay phone."

"Hannibal's alive? What about –"

"They're all alive. It's a long story."

"I have a phone –"

"That's probably tapped." Murdock shook his head. He wouldn't feel comfortable until they got out of this house.

"I've been out of the spy game for too long."

"I'm sure it'll all come back to you –" He stopped as Haley came walking out of the kitchen carrying a cup of coffee.

She handed her mother the cup, walked to the television and turned down the volume. "Are you two deaf, or something?"

Murdock gave an un-amused snort. "Or something."

Sydney squeezed his hands, and stood up. "It's such a nice day, we were talking about taking a walk through the neighborhood. The boxes make me crazy." She looked down at Murdock. "I'm going to change into some more comfortable walking shoes. I'll be right back."

Murdock watched as Syd headed down the hall, and felt a wave of apprehension when she disappeared from his sight. He forced his mind to contemplate the best exit route to the nearest pay phone; preferably on a busy street.

"Where are we going?" Haley's question startled him out of his thoughts.

"I thought maybe I'd take my ladies to Prior Attire. It's a vintage clothing shop just around the corner. I'll buy you some new duds."

"Tell me you didn't just say 'duds.'"

Murdock raised his eyebrows. Did she just roll her eyes at him? "Well, if 'duds' isn't the proper term, then maybe you should help me get with the times."

"You could say something like, we're going out to get some new gear."

"Gear?" Murdock shook his head. "Sounds like I'm headed to stores to get a new pack or something. Try again."

"How about 'threads' – that's a cool term."

He grinned at her. "Talk about retro. I thought that term went out with the Rat Pack."

"Who?"

He sighed. "Never mind."

Haley shrugged. "Maybe you should just stick with the technical term, 'clothes.'"

Sydney came jogging out in a pair of sneakers and a light jacket. "OK, I'm ready to rock n' roll."

"Oh my God!" Haley stood. "Really, you two should just talk like normal old people."

"We're not old." Sydney and Murdock said in unison.

"I meant 'old_er_,' not old." Haley hastened to the door. "Are we ready to go?"

Sydney and Murdock looked at each other, expressions conveying a much more serious message than the light banter suggested. Murdock nodded and they turned to follow Haley out of the house.

At the door, Murdock's gaze was drawn immediate to the cleaning van sitting in front of the house to the right of Syd's. Scanning the opposite way down the street, he saw another panel van kitty corner across from Syd's, this one for a lawn care company. Kinda late for either kind of work. His instincts all told him someone was very interested in what Sydney remembered – who else would they be watching on this sleepy residential street? He was convinced it was all connected, somehow, to what had happened the day the Team robbed the bank of Hanoi. Someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble to keep him, Sydney and the guys out of the way.

And whoever it was, they were frighteningly well-connected in the spy community.

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 3**

Lewis leaned against the mantle of the non-functional fireplace in his townhouse apartment. The black and white photo he stared at was in a simple, ebony frame, and showed Lewis standing next to his then-partner, Sydney Wilson. Abruptly, he snatched the picture frame off the shelf and flung it across the room. The glass shattered against the wall and the wood broke into pieces.

Lewis' expression was emotionless as he crossed the room and crouched to extract the photo from the broken remains. He ran a thumb over the image of his former partner. Like a lioness, beautiful, canny and deadly, Sydney had captured his fancy like no other woman he had ever met. They were an ideal pair, and he thought their relationship would grow over time. Everything was going fine . . . until Sydney met that damn pilot.

And now, 15 years later, the same pilot was fucking up all of his carefully-laid plans. He shoved the photo into the inside pocket of his jacket, and stood. After cleaning up the mess, he opened the duffle on the sofa and took a quick inventory of the contents before closing it and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He wouldn't be back to this apartment again.

It was time to implement one of his contingencies.

**CHAPTER 3: Defining the Enemy**

Sydney slipped her hand into Murdock's as they moved along the front walk toward the street. Haley walked along beside her, oblivious to the danger that stalked their movements. She wished she could insulate her daughter from it; but even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it would be impossible.

Murdock squeezed her hand, but his uneasiness was infectious. She glanced at his profile; it reflected the same watchful anxiety she felt in every tense muscle of her body. His heightened awareness of his surroundings recalled the man she had met in Vietnam; an almost frightening combination of special forces and intelligence agent; a man she had been warned her to be wary of; a man that, despite her best defenses, she had fallen in love with.

Haley took her other hand in a carefree grip and forced Sydney back to the present. She scanned the neighborhood with a newly-jaded eye. Across the street, a father was playing catch with his son in the front yard. A couple of pre-teens road past on bicycles, and a woman stood out in the yard, watering her flower beds.

It was the most benign scene Sydney could imagine. Even the panel van, today marked with a cleaning company logo, seemed innocuous in this setting. It was parked in front of the house next door. Murdock bypassed the sidewalk and guided them across the street, to avoid passing by the van too closely. He veered right and Sydney quickened her pace, tugging on Haley's hand to urge her along.

"Prior Attire is on the next block." Murdock was keeping his tone light, but Sydney could see his eyes darting side to side, taking in every detail as they moved at a less-than-leisurely pace through the neighborhood that was bustling with early evening activity.

Syd felt Murdock jerk in surprise when Haley broke the silence. "So when you say vintage clothing, you mean, like clothing somebody else has worn before, right." Haley made a face. "That's kinda gross."

A genuine smile of amusement illuminated Murdock's face. "They do wash them, Haley."

"But still . . ."

"It's no different than buying clothes at a garage sale. We've done that plenty of times," Sydney said.

"I know. I think that was kinda gross, too."

Sydney shook her head. "Stop acting like such a little priss, Haley Marie. What's gotten into you?"

"Lisa always gets her clothes brand new. She said it's the only way to keep up with the latest fashions."

Sydney grimaced. That kind of attitude had always irritated her. "I definitely want to meet Lisa's folks before you start hanging out with her too much."

"Mom." Haley's tone conveyed her distress at Sydney's statement.

"Here we are." Murdock opened the door and ushered Sydney and Haley into the little shop, ending the deteriorating discussion between mother and daughter.

* * *

Syd and Haley were in the one dressing room in the shop, putting on their new clothes, while Murdock went to the checkout. He handed the tags to the woman behind the counter. "I think they'll be wearing their new purchases out. Can I have a bag to put their other clothes in?"

"I'd rather you brought the clothes out for purchase." The woman looked at Murdock narrowly.

He held out a hundred dollar bill and gave her what he hoped was a smile Face would have been proud of. "That should more than cover our purchases. Do you have a rear exit?"

She took the offered money, and waved a dismissive hand. "Down the back hall, just past the dressing room."

"Thanks."

*

Outside the dressing room, Sydney took her and Haley's clothes and stuffed them into the bag Murdock held open. He threw the bag behind a shelf just inside the retail area.

"What are you doing?" Haley protested. "That's . . . , um, that's my favorite t-shirt."

"I'll get you a new one, kiddo," Murdock said. "I can't believe I'm caught in this situation without a weapon. I mean hopefully we won't need it but . . ."

"A weapon?" Haley's eyes were wide, and grew wider as her mother pulled a gun out of a holster at her ankle.

Sydney handed the gun to Murdock. "It's only a six shot, but it's better than nothing."

Murdock checked the ammo, nodded, and grinned at Sydney as he shoved the gun in his pocket. "You are the woman of my dreams."

She smiled at him, but quickly sobered. "Did you see the cleaning van?"

"I saw 'em. And the lawn care van on the other side. Not very original. Hopefully we won't have company as soon as we walk out of here. But I'd say they're definitely worried about something. You've got surveillance all over you."

"What are you two talking about?" Haley looked from Sydney to Murdock, her mounting anxiety apparent in the rising pitch of her voice.

Sydney put a hand on Haley's shoulder. "Haley, we don't have time for a full-blown explanation right now, so you're going to have to be satisfied with this: I was an intelligence agent in Vietnam. And whatever it is I might remember has someone very worried. HM is going to take us somewhere that we'll be safe, but you're going to have to keep quiet, keep close, and do exactly as you're told. Understood?"

Haley nodded mutely. Murdock checked out the back door. "It's clear. Once we're outside, we can head straight to Main. It'll be too busy for them to make a move there. There's a pay phone on the corner of Main and State – we should be able to get some backup then. Ready?"

They walked out the back door casually and headed through the alley to Main Street. They made it to Main and State without incident, and Murdock slid into the phone booth, dropped in a quarter, and dialed the number the General had given him for emergencies.

The phone rang, but when the line picked up, Murdock swore, as a mechanical voice intoned, "Your call is very important to us. Please leave your name and number after the beep and we'll get back to you as soon as possible."

Murdock hung up, dropped in another quarter, and began to dial again, just as a stretch limo slid up to the curb. He put the phone down as General Stockwell stood and held the door open. "Captain, Special Agent, Miss. Please, get in the car."

Murdock felt Sydney stiffen beside him. One look at her face told him that not only did she know Stockwell, but she was not happy to see him. He groaned inwardly, as he added another question to the rapidly-growing list he needed to ask her. Unfortunately, right now there wasn't time to hesitate, as he watched a white panel van turn the corner.

He looked down at Sydney, noting the stubborn set of her jaw. Yep, she knew Stockwell alright. "Syd, you gotta trust me."

"You, I trust." She ground out. She turned to Haley. "Get into the car, honey."

Murdock was relieved when Sydney followed Haley through the door. He ducked in after, followed closely by Stockwell.

Murdock looked over at Sydney and Haley. "You two alright?"

Sydney didn't respond, just stared at the General as if he were a cobra about to strike.

But Haley was nodding. "Yeah, I think so. Are we safe now?"

"Safe is a relative term." Murdock turned to the General. "We have company."

"You forget, I am closely allied with the spy community in this town. They won't make a move on my vehicle. They know you're safe inside."

Murdock's eyes narrowed. "How did you get here so fast?"

"I would have picked you up outside of the clothing establishment, but you disappeared out the back," Stockwell said. "I would think you would know by now, Captain, when something happens to you, I am the first to find out. I always protect my assets."

Murdock leaned back and closed his eyes. As grateful as he was, it pissed him off that Stockwell treated him like property. It also nagged at him that Stockwell seemed to know he needed picked up before he did himself. He opened his eyes a slit. "So, where are we headed?"

"The Compound would be safest right now. Someone is apparently very interested in exactly how much Special Agent Wilson has remembered about her final days in Vietnam. Obviously, their interest, interests me a great deal." Stockwell turned to Sydney. "So, Special Agent, what are they so worried about?"

"I have no idea."

"I thought you recovered your memory?"

"Most of it." Sydney spoke in clipped notes.

"But not all. Unfortunate." Stockwell leaned back. "I believe you. However, I doubt whoever is watching you will be nearly as lenient in their questioning."

Sydney crossed her arms. "So tell me, Colonel, am I worth more to you as fodder for your contacts, or as leverage?"

"It's General now, Sydney, and I will not throw you to the dogs. Not yet."

Murdock slammed a fist against the window. "You won't throw her to the dogs at all, Stockwell, or you'll be dealing with me."

The General's lips turned up at the corners. "I have been dealing with you for half of my career, Captain. You need to relax. Nothing is going to happen to Special Agent Wilson. Her failing memory is an issue, however. We need to know _who_ is worried about _what_."

Sydney placed a hand on Murdock's knee. "He's right, HM. You know he's right."

Murdock sat back and crossed his arms. Right or not, Stockwell pissed him off. And what the hell did he mean, he'd been dealing with him for half his career? He'd only just met Stockwell last year. He still couldn't decide if that had been good or bad. One thing he had learned in dealing with the man, as long as your objectives aligned with his you could trust him. Beyond that, all bets were off.

But what really had him curious was how Sydney knew the General. Because based on her behavior toward him, she knew him pretty damn well.

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 4**

Ike read the email for the fourth time, and pounded a fist on his desk. Of course. Asher was that pushy psych evaluator with the big head. Every CIA agent in 'Nam had visited with the Doctor at one time or another, including Ike; and Lewis. Hell, even Quinn and Stockwell knew the guy. Asher had severed his ties with the Company precipitously near the end of the war and gone into private practice; a practice where one of his first patients was Alexis Smith, a.k.a. Sydney Wilson. Like most people in his profession, Ike didn't believe in coincidence.

It was also interesting that Sydney had apparently been found just over the Laos border, in a camp the CIA had used for training Hmong tribesmen. Ike would have to check, but he wouldn't be surprised to find out that Lewis had spent some time at that training camp. Lewis had orchestrated Sydney Wilson's disappearance, and with the help of David Asher, had made sure she stayed off the radar for 15 years. The son of a bitch was good, Ike had to give him that.

He smiled as he considered the irony of the entire situation. Ultimately, Lewis had sealed his own coffin by not eliminating Wilson when he had the chance.

That was too bad for him; too good for Ike.

**CHAPTER 4: Uneasy Allies**

Hannibal took a drag on his cigar, and watched the smoke curl in front of his eyes. "The General seemed dug in, and all the sudden he jack rabbits outta here. Wonder what's up?"

"With Stockwell, who knows?" Frankie Santana dropped onto the end of the couch, joining the other three men already sitting in the living room. "I, for one, am glad he's gone."

BA flipped the channel on the TV. "I second that. That dude does nothing but make our life miserable."

"Hopefully he's working on making our lives our own." Face was slouched in the easy chair, watching disinterestedly while BA channel-surfed.

Hannibal took another drag on his cigar and watched the flickering images on the screen through the resultant haze as he blew the smoke out. In the smoke, patterns shifted, coalesced, shifted again, and Hannibal let his mind drift. He hoped to hell Stockwell's sudden departure didn't have anything to do with the pardons. They had waited too long for them already.

Unbidden and unwelcome thoughts flitted through his mind, ever-present and disturbing. He acknowledged that there was a part of him that was afraid of getting the pardons. He worried that he would not be able to lead his men into freedom. After fifteen years on the run, and the war before that, he wasn't sure he understood what freedom, true freedom, was anymore. He smiled inwardly at the irony. Having fought for freedom all of his adult life, he was now afraid to embrace it himself.

He heard a car pulling up outside. Frankie must have heard it, too. "Sounds like Stockwell's back," Frank said.

But a moment later it was Murdock that strode into the room, followed closely by a petite woman and a tall, willowy girl. As the woman emerged from the shadows near the front door, Hannibal started, and stood. "Sydney Wilson?"

The woman's full mouth curved up in a smile. "Hello, Colonel Smith."

Face and BA had bolted to their feet beside him, both looking as shocked as he felt. "Syd, what the hell? We thought . . ."

Face's eyes strayed to Murdock's face, and Hannibal knew what worried him, but decided that since she was standing right in front of them there was no harm in finishing the sentence. "We thought you were dead."

"Seems to be a common misconception, Colonel."

The girl that had accompanied Sydney and Murdock through the door, moved closer to Sydney.

BA found his voice. "Who're you, li'l sister?"

Sydney reached out and pulled the girl to her. "This is my daughter, Haley."

Murdock's face was visible over the girl's head, and Hannibal was struck by the similarities. "How old are you, Haley?" Hannibal asked.

"I'm almost fifteen." Haley's voice carried a defiant lilt that reminded Hannibal of her mother. He suppressed a smile, as he did the math.

"She's mine, Hannibal."

Hannibal snorted. "No shi –" Haley's youthful face gazed at him unblinking, and he automatically censored himself. "Uh, no kidding. I seem to recall, Captain, that we had agreed that that relationship was off limits."

Sydney crossed her arms and shot him an exasperated look. "Oh, give it a rest, Colonel. You condoned our relationship when it was useful to you. You don't turn something like that on and off. You knew damn well what was going on."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow and considered the petite woman in front of him. Despite her tendency to be insubordinate, or maybe because of it, he had always admired her; but he was reluctant to let this one go that easily. "It was against regulation. You both knew it. I spoke to Murdock, and I know Lewis talked to you. I brought you in strictly to help Murdock recover; not to seduce him."

Face snorted next to him, and Hannibal turned a reproving gaze on his second-in-command. "You have something to add, Lieutenant?"

Face shook his head, but BA wasn't going to let it lie. "Give it a rest, Hannibal. None of us understood why you was throwing the reg book in Murdock's face by then."

Hannibal smirked inwardly. They weren't going to get the truth out of him. He'd spent too long building up the image of uncompromising commander. Sydney certainly didn't need to see how far he had slid since the war. "You all knew where I stood on that – not that it mattered much, apparently." He crossed his arms and turned to Sydney, his thoughts finally settling on the disturbing possibilities that her presence conjured in his already over-active mind. "Just where the hell have you been for the last 15 years, S.A. Wilson?"

The girl stepped in front of her mother, the cub protecting the lioness. Hannibal found the thought amusing. "She's been living as Alexis Smith. Until today, she didn't know who she was."

Hannibal looked from Haley to Sydney. "How did you get out of 'Nam?"

Sydney shook her head, frustration etched in the lines around her mouth and eyes. "I don't know. The last thing I remember is Murdock and . . ." A flush crept up her neck and colored her cheeks. "The last thing I recall is Murdock leaving me the night before the Bank of Hanoi job. After that, it's blank until I woke about five weeks later in a hospital in Laos."

"Hospital?" Face asked.

Her gaze shifted to Face. "I had been . . ." Sydney swallowed and took a deep breath. "There was evidence of torture. I really don't remember anything."

Hannibal worked his jaw, as the events of that day played in fast-forward through his mind, as they had countless times before. "I remember Murdock coming to talk to me that morning. You had offered some vague warning that the job was a set up. At the time, I couldn't see how, but over the last 15 years, that warning has played over and over in my head. What was it you suspected was going on, Sydney?"

She shook her head, blue eyes reflecting anger, but he recognized that the anger was directed internally, and not at him. "I'm not certain, Colonel. Smuggling, I think, but the details are fuzzy."

"Smuggling would fit with what Curtis and Kyeh testified to at the trial," Face said.

"Smuggling what?" Hannibal asked.

"Drugs, guns, maybe both." Sydney shrugged. "There was a booming market for either or." She glanced at Murdock, who shifted uneasily.

"What is it, Captain?" Hannibal asked.

"Nothing."

Sydney crossed her arms and looked at Murdock. "That's what I investigated _you_ for at the beginning of my tour, Murdock. At Stockwell's request, no less."

"What?" Murdock looked surprised. "Why would Stockwell be involved? I didn't even know him then."

Sydney shifted, obviously uneasy. "Well, Stockwell knew you."

Murdock turned to face her, eyes narrowed. "Is that why you hit on me? That whole thing was to investigate me? I thought you were on some top-secret mission."

Face's expression was as accusing as Murdock's as he stepped forward. "I can't believe that even after I called you on the mat you lied to us."

There was a defiant tilt to Sydney's head as she confronted the two men. "I wasn't allowed to talk about it. I thought you both understood that – especially you, Murdock."

Murdock's shoulders slumped. "Fine, Syd, I understand in principal. But why were you investigating me?"

Face's stance relaxed somewhat, and he snorted. "Well, truth be told, it's probably a good thing Hannibal got to you before Syd did, Murdock or you might have been on the hook."

Murdock's eyes went wide, and he shook his head at his friend, pointing at Haley behind her back.

Sydney crossed her arms, and tapped a foot. "And here I gave you a clean bill of health, Murdock."

"I never ran guns," he protested.

Haley turned and gaped at him. "But you smuggled drugs?" Hannibal was impressed that the girl seemed to be following the conversation – well, impressed and maybe a little disturbed.

Murdock's expression conveyed that he was more than disturbed; he was mortified that Haley had picked up on the undercurrent of the conversation. "I was clean . . ."

Hannibal cringed when Face smirked and said, "By then." That wasn't helping.

Sydney sighed. "And that's what I told Stockwell. Honestly, I think he was relieved, but I didn't really understand why he wanted the investigation in the first place."

"Stockwell?" Murdock looked a little shell-shocked, his gaze locked on Haley's accusing face. "You know, I think it might be best if we took this discussion outside, while Haley watches some TV in here."

"That won't be necessary, Captain." Stockwell came striding into the room. "Carla, please escort Ms. Smith back to my office and set her up with a movie on the video system."

"No!" Haley turned to Sydney. "Mom, tell them. I want to know what's going on. I deserve to know as much as you do."

"Yes, you do." Sydney sighed. "But the fact of the matter is that we can't get to the bottom of this with everyone censoring themselves because you're here. I'll tell you everything later. For now, do as the General says." Haley hesitated, and Syd reinforced her decision, "Go now, Haley. We'll talk later. I promise."

Hannibal had to stop himself from laughing at the daggers that Haley shot her mother as she complied. He remembered being on the receiving end of those kind of looks from Sydney. Haley might look like her father, but she definitely had her mother's attitude.

* * *

Sydney was surprised when the wall at the end of the living room slid up to reveal a large screen and video/audio equipment. Her instinctive distrust of Stockwell was allayed somewhat by the routine with which Hannibal and the others moved to that end of the room for the conference. When she met Stockwell during the war, she had taken an immediate dislike to the man. Though she hadn't interacted with him much, each time they met his attitude had reinforced her initial assessment. He was definitely a man to be wary of. She followed the others, but chose not to sit within the circle of men, and instead stood behind Murdock.

Stockwell turned to the assembly. "I suspect we are all agreed that whatever is going on here, it is somehow associated with the Team's orders to rob the Bank of Hanoi on January 27, 1972 – orders reportedly lost in the shelling, that then made a miraculous reappearance during the trial last year."

Disgruntled mutters among Hannibal's men hinted at the unease and uncertainty that the subject raised:

"Yeah, and where the hell did they find Morrison's body all of the sudden?" Murdock looked at Face who sat to his right.

Face grunted. "And wasn't it interesting that he had two bullet holes in him from a service revolver. Anybody could have done it."

Hannibal sneered. "Sure was convenient that Kyeh fingered us, too. Morrison was afraid of us, my ass."

"We was framed." BA crossed his arms and glowered at no one in particular.

"Are you done, gentlemen?" Stockwell waited for the grumbling to end, then clicked a button on a remote in his hand. A photo appeared of herself, standing next to her partner of the time, Jeremy Lewis.

Stockwell spoke in a detached, analytical tone. "Carla has gathered information on the current status of the players that may have been involved. This is Jeremy Lewis. He was a CIA recon operative at the base camp for three years before the end of the war. His last partner: Sydney Wilson." Another photo flashed onto the screen, showing Lewis in a three-piece suit, hair shaved close to his head. "He is now Section Chief for International Operations at the Central Intelligence Agency. He has top level security clearance, and travels extensively in his current position."

A series of photos depicting Sydney's psychiatrist appeared next and Sydney felt her bile rise as Stockwell continued. "Until recently, Sydney has been living as Alexis Smith, and long term amnesiac under the care of one, Dr. David Asher, psychiatrist and hypnotherapy specialist. Asher worked with the CIA during the waning days of the Vietnam war, conducting research into hypnotic interrogation techniques. Subsequently, he severed ties with the CIA, but has continued to publish cutting-edge research papers in the field of hypnotherapy and memory manipulation."

Next, a grainy black and white photo General Kyeh flashed onto the screen, and Syd started when BA growled. Stockwell ignored the dark looks on the faces of the Team members. "NVA General Kyeh. Investigation after the war revealed that Kyeh was Morrison's primary contact in the NVA. Kyeh was brought to the US as a deal for revealing his pipeline." A more-recent photo appeared on the screen, showing Kyeh in civies, apparently in the US, based on the background of the photo. "He was deported shortly after the A-Team conviction, and is now living in Laos."

A photo of Josh Curtis flashed onto the screen and Stockwell turned to the assembly. "Curtis, as you know, was killed during the trial. We thought, originally, that he was killed by the arms dealer he was collaborating with. I have recently learned that is not the case."

"Sulay admitted to killing Curtis," Hannibal said.

"He may have admitted it, Colonel, that doesn't mean he was telling the truth." Stockwell leveled a gaze at Hannibal that Sydney thought looked vaguely accusing. It made her curious about the circumstances of Sulay's confession. "The fact is that Curtis' murder remains unresolved, but is likely connected somehow."

He turned to Sydney. "Have you remembered anything else of interest?"

Sydney shook her head. Even if she did remember something, she wasn't sure she was ready to reveal it in front of Stockwell. She crossed her arms. "I notice you didn't include your own bio, General."

A smug smile curved Stockwell's lips. "Nor did I include Isaac Cheney, or Peter Quinn, or Silas Arnold. Do you recall any of those names, S.A. Wilson? No, I can see by your face you don't. I think our best course of action, rather than reviewing endless bios of all the men involved in the intelligence arena at that time, is to see if we can recover the memories locked in _your_ head. I have Carla researching specialists in hypnotherapy with that goal in mind."

"No shrink that _you_ recommend is getting into _my_ head." Sydney's gaze was uncompromising.

"Richter practiced hypnotherapy," Murdock said. "Maybe he could help."

Sydney started. "Allen Richter?"

"Yeah. You know him?" Murdock twisted in his seat so he could meet her eyes.

"He's the therapist Asher referred me to when I moved out to LA."

"Dr. Allen Richter?" Murdock's brown eyes drew tight. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I visited his private office. It was at his estate."

"That's not possible."

"That's who I saw, HM."

"Richter would have known who you were."

Sydney shook her head. "How? I went in there as Alexis Smith."

"He'd seen your photo dozens of times during my sessions. You haven't changed that much since the war, Syd. Richter should have recognized you."

Sydney swallowed. "Maybe he knew who I was before I ever walked through the door."

A range of emotions flitted across Murdock's features, culminating in a rage that startled her with its intensity.

* * *

Murdock had to get out of the house after the revelation about Richter. No one stopped him as he slammed out the patio door and took off around the obstacle course. He didn't even remember shedding his hat and jacket. He ran the course at least half a dozen times through, without a break.

He dragged himself onto the deck, physically and mentally spent, expecting to find Hannibal, and dreading the encounter. Instead, Sydney lounged in a deck chair. Just the sight of her eased his mind.

"Hey, flyboy. Seven times around the course. Not bad for an old man."

He dropped into the lounge next to her and concentrated on regulating his breathing. "I . . . expected . . . Hannibal."

"Yeah, he and I . . . discussed the options. We agreed it would be better if I talked to you when you were ready. I have a little more insight into what you're going through right now."

A bark of a laugh escaped his lips. "Discussed, huh? I remember your and Hannibal's discussions."

"I'm older and not nearly as, uh, hot-headed as I used to be. I think maybe Hannibal has mellowed some with age, too. It was a civilized discussion."

"Glad to hear you've both grown up." Murdock straddled the end of the lounge, elbows on knees, and cradled his head in his hands. Now that his vitals were settling into an almost-normal rhythm, he noticed a throbbing pain in his head.

He heard Syd shift next to him. "I'm sorry about Richter, HM. It's a hell of a blow to learn the guy you've confided your deepest, darkest secrets to is a cattle prod."

He chuckled and sat back. "Cattle prod of the mind – what an image. You always did have a way with words, Syd."

"Then again, he might not be a cattle prod. We don't know what's going on, and jumping to conclusions isn't going to get us any closer to the truth."

Murdock took and deep breath and blew it out slowly. Syd's logic was as flawless as he remembered. "Doesn't mean I can trust him. I've always trusted Richter." He rubbed his hands down his face then looked up at her. "I keep thinking this can't get any worse."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Sydney swung her legs to the side of her lounge to face him; the earnest smile on her full lips mesmerizing him. "But I keep coming back to the one bright spot in this whole God damn situation - we're back together. I always felt like I could take on the whole NVA after we spent time together. It's no different now. That's what I'm holding onto."

Murdock considered her silently for several seconds. Though a lot had changed in the last 15 years, how he felt about Sydney had not. Even when he believed she was dead, he hadn't been able to let go of his feelings for her.

The problem was that he didn't know how to cope with the tangle of intense emotions that she reawakened in him. A large part of him wanted to slip back into the relationship that he had fought so hard to forge with her more than fifteen years ago. Unfortunately, there was a lot about the intervening period of his life that she didn't know, and her reaction to it could make or break him, literally.

Her smile had faded, and it was like his sun had wandered behind a cloud. She touched his knee. "What's holding you back, HM?"

"You could always tell, couldn't you?"

"Actually, I think you were much better at reading me, than I was at reading you." Syd smiled at him, and his heart gave a lurch. God he loved her smile.

"We both had our moments." He gazed at her, his thoughts wandering through the minefield of their relationship in Vietnam. He shook himself. That was all ancient history. A lot had happened since then.

"Please talk to me, HM."

He ran agitated hands back through his hair. "There's no way to sugar-coat this, Syd. I spent 13 years living in the mental ward of the VA hospital in Brentwood."

She tilted her head to the side and asked, "Why?"

Her mild reaction caught him off-guard. He stared at her for several seconds, gathering his thoughts. "It was good cover. Kept me off the MP's radar, but free enough to help the guys when they needed it." He pursed his lips and looked into her eyes. "And . . . I belonged there after the war, Syd. I was really messed up."

Her full lips parted, her wide eyes full of regret. "I'm sorry, HM . . . about a lot of things, but most of all, that I wasn't there for you."

He smiled sadly. "I think what pushed me over the edge was that I felt like I wasn't there for you."

"You were there for the Team, Murdock, and that's where you belonged. You told me so yourself. Whatever the hell happened to me was not your fault."

He sat back, searched her face. "So you're ok with the fact that your daughter's father is a crazy man?"

She grinned at him. "What, did you think I was any less screwed up after the war? It is amazing Haley is as well-adjusted as she is. She ended up in foster care more than once during the first 5 years of her life. Pissed as I am at Asher right now, he did help me work through the worst of my problems. If not, I probably would have lost Haley for good."

"Haley." Murdock ran a hand back through his hair again. "I've made a stellar impression on her. The drug thing just had to come up. Did you see the way she looked at me?"

Sydney laughed out loud, and Murdock stared at her in shock. "Oh, c'mon, HM. Haley looks at me like that at least once a day. She's a teenager. She feigned shock, but what she's really thinking is 'leverage' for the first time you catch her doing something she shouldn't."

"Really?"

"Really."

His eyes narrowed. "How do you think she'll feel about having a father fresh from the loony bin?"

"She's lived with a crazy mother all her life. I'd wager she knows almost as much about psychiatric disorders as Asher or Richter. She'll take it in stride."

Murdock felt himself truly relax for the first time in several hours. "Thanks, Syd." He pushed himself against the back of the lounge. "I was really afraid I was blowing it."

"You definitely are not blowing it."

They sat in silence for a minute, when Syd suddenly moved to sit in front of him on his lounge chair. A determined tilt of her head turned questioning blue eyes toward him. "HM, what do you think is going on here?"

Murdock's brows furrowed, he was fairly certain Syd wasn't referring to the intrigue stuff. "I'm not sure." He sat forward and laced his fingers into hers. "Finding you, Haley. It's . . . overwhelming."

"It is." Syd looked at their entwined fingers for a moment before lifting her eyes to his, again. "Fifteen years is a long time."

He decided he had moved too fast, and loosened his grip on her hands. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Syd tightened her own hold in the next breath. It was like a levee had breeched somewhere in her brain, allowing a flood of words to crash over him. "I'm throwing my usual caution to the wind here. I mean 15 years is a long time, but I only just remembered and maybe that's what makes it all so fresh in my mind. When I saw you, all those feelings that I kept fighting back in 'Nam bubbled right to the surface, and now I find myself wondering why the hell I wasted so much time. Fifteen years – 15 years - are gone, and I don't want to fight it anymore. I . . . understand if you don't feel the same, but I just had to –"

"You talk too much, Sydney." Murdock pulled her forward and covered her mouth with his.

* * *

"She shut down as soon as you talked to her, General."

"What do you suggest, Colonel?"

Hannibal crossed his arms. "I suggest you take a hike so we can get Sydney to open up. She's having trouble remembering everything, and your presence just seems to aggravate the problem."

"You think you can overcome fifteen years of hypnotherapy by making her comfortable?"

"Well, I'm fairly certain bullying her isn't going to work. She and Murdock are both agitated, and your presence is just making things worse. Leave and let me do my job."

"And I'm sure you'll have my best interests in mind?" Stockwell's snide tone grated on Hannibal's last nerve.

"Godammit, Stockwell, this isn't about you. It's about two people who have been manipulated nearly half their lives by an intelligence community that _you _are intimately involved with. If you don't back off, one of them may just snap, and you could end up on the receiving end."

"You're being a bit melodramatic, don't you think, Colonel?"

Hannibal walked forward, placed both hand on the desk, and leaned in so his face was inches from Stockwell's. "Tell me you haven't been involved in this."

Stockwell gazed at him impassively. "I am not involved."

"You sure as hell better not be," Hannibal growled. "If I find out different, you're a dead man. Are we clear?"

"Idle threats, Colonel. Your cowboy intimidation tactics have never worked on me. Regardless, I am as much in the dark about what is going on as you are."

Hannibal considered the General silently for several beats. He seriously doubted Stockwell was as 'in the dark' about what was going on as he was, but Hannibal didn't think he was involved in whatever happened. At least he hoped not. He pushed off the desk and began pacing. "Give me a few days, General. After that, if we haven't made any progress, we'll discuss other options. I'm just asking for a few days."

"Fine. You have 72 hours."

"I'll need a plane."

"Why?"

"Because, we need a change of scenery." Hannibal's ice-blue eyes glittered. "Crystal Lake is relaxing this time of year."

"Very well." Stockwell's teeth ground. "But I better see results, Colonel. I am trusting you with this. If you are headed out of state, I'll have to run interference for you. Otherwise, you will have company."

Hannibal shrugged. "You do your job, I'll do mine."

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 5**

"I'm telling you, I think she suspects something." David Asher stared out his office window, where dusk was descending on the parking lot for his office complex. "She doesn't trust me. I think she's remembering more than she tells me."

"I told you letting her go to LA was a mistake, Doctor. You said you had it under control."

"I did have it under control."

"Obviously, you didn't."

"_You_ should have dealt with this 15 years ago. It would have been easier . . . and safer." Asher turned to face the man sitting in the shadows of his office. "Instead you nurtured that soft spot you have for her."

"If I hadn't nurtured that soft spot, as you call it, I wouldn't have needed your help, now would I? Where would that have left you, Asher?"

"Still working for the CIA, that's where," Asher snapped. "I only severed ties because you thought it would be best. Do you know how far I could have taken my research if I had the Company backing?"

Jeremy Lewis stood up to his full 6 foot 2 inches, his eyes glowed golden in the fading light of the day. "As I told you then, Doctor – the Company was ready to dissolve their relationship with you. The war was almost over and the backlash back in the states was making them sensitive to marginally-ethical programs. You were on your way out when I found you."

Asher's teeth ground. "But it's your fucking ego that's going to blow the whole operation. 15 years of building a network down the fucking tubes because you won't take care of business." Asher sneered at the man. For all his machismo, Lew was soft where Sydney Wilson and her daughter were concerned – always had been. "You want to retire, fine. But you better suck it up and take care of Sydney Wilson first. There is no happy ending with her, Lewis. Surely, now, you realize that."

*

Lew walked to the window, stopping slightly behind Asher, and crossed his arms, his gloved fingers beating a staccato rhythm on his arm. "You know you could have taken care of it yourself. You could have slipped her an overdose any time – made it look natural. Anything more overt would have raised too many questions."

"I'm a doctor, Lewis, not a killer. That's your job."

"For once, Doctor, you are right." Lew pulled out a gun, and in swift silence, held it to Asher's head and pulled the trigger. Asher slumped forward, his blood forming a black puddle on the dark mahogany.

Lew placed the gun into Asher's hand, and slipped the prepared suicide note onto the desk, before leaving through the rear entrance, careful to leave no trace.

**CHAPTER 5: Harmony and Discord**

Haley, Frankie and Face all whirled from the window as Hannibal strode into the kitchen with BA in tow.

Hannibal poured himself a cup of coffee, shaking his head as the three tried to look busy. "So, what's so interesting outside?"

"What? Nothing," Frankie said.

Haley opened the refrigerator door. "We were just finishing up the, uh, the salad. For dinner." She reached in and tossed a head of lettuce to Frankie.

Frankie caught it, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, yeah. The salad."

Hannibal watched the show with a smirk on his face, before walking to look out the window for himself. Murdock sat in a lounge chair with Sydney on his lap. They were making out like a couple of teenagers. He turned back to Face, who remained silent. "So, it looks like they're picking up where they left off?"

Face grinned. "Yeah."

Hannibal sighed. "Just how long were they that serious in 'Nam, Face?"

"You practically sanctioned it after the POW camp . . ." Face hesitated.

"C'mon, Lieutenant. I need to know everything if we're going to get to the bottom of this." Then Hannibal caught Face's significant look at Haley, who had given up pretending to be busy. "Haley, maybe you should go let your folks know that supper is just about ready."

Haley stared Hannibal down for a few seconds before huffing, "Fine. I'll leave. But I am _not_ going to talk to _them_ right now." She stomped out to the living room and flipped on the TV.

Hannibal turned back to his men.

"It was Lewis, Hannibal," BA said.

"Syd's partner?"

"He and Murdock didn't get along," Face said. "Lew had an annoying tendency to slip through our defenses and interrupt. The first couple times, Murdock blew it off, but after that, he started getting irritated."

BA snickered. "Irritated's a nice way of sayin' Murdock lit into him."

"The weird thing was that Lew didn't pull the reg book out, like you did. He'd just spirit Syd away from base after their confrontations, sometimes for days at a time. Drove Murdock crazy."

"Crazier'n usual," BA said.

Hannibal nodded. "So what you're telling me is Lewis was trying to keep them apart, in his own way." That, in and of itself, didn't surprise him.

"Yeah, only he was way more successful than you were," Face said.

Hannibal shrugged. "Obviously. But why not just call them on it? He could have gotten Syd transferred."

"Maybe he didn't want her transferred," BA suggested.

Face and Hannibal looked at each other, and Face nodded. "Maybe. But why?"

"The answers are locked in her head, I'm sure of it. We just need to figure out how to get to them," Hannibal said.

"But Stockwell's right," Face said. "How do we overcome fifteen years of . . . whatever the hell Asher was doing with her head?"

Hannibal crossed his arms and stared at the floor, seeing a path forward through the chaos of his thoughts. "We recruit Richter."

"Hannibal, we don't know what side Richter's on," Face protested.

He looked up at his Lieutenant. "We don't know what side Stockwell's on, either, but we have to use the resources available to us. Do you know any other hypnotherapists?"

"Asher, but something tells me Syd would balk at that. Of course, Murdock's going to be less than happy about Richter."

"That may be, but I have more confidence in Richter than in Asher. At least we have some history to draw on there. Asher is a total unknown at this point. I'm not willing to risk it."

Face nodded in agreement. "So, you want me to see if I can get Richter out here?"

"Nope, we'll go to him." Hannibal grinned. "We're headed to the relaxing shores of Crystal Lake. We have 72 hours to recover Syd's memory."

"Cyrstal Lake, huh?" Face's eyes widened as the rest of Hannibal statement registered. "72 hours? Three days? You have to be kidding me."

"I ain't flyin'," BA growled.

"72 hours, and you are flying, Sergeant. The General's supplying a plane, and we're on a tight timeline. I want to leave early in the morning. Lieutenant, you know what you have to do."

* * *

Sydney had lost all sense of space and time. Murdock's lips were her world, and his hands caressed her until every nerve was tingling with a desire she hadn't felt in a very long time. He cradled her on his lap, and try as she might, in her current position there was no way to get closer to him – and she desperately wanted to get closer. She could feel his own need straining against her leg, and longed to shift and straddle him, but decided that the clothing would definitely be in the way. That was when it occurred to her that they were sitting on the deck, in full view of the house. She became uncomfortably aware that the house had many eyes – two of which likely belonged to her own impressionable, teenaged daughter.

With sheer force of will she unlocked her arms from around Murdock's neck, and placed flat hands against his chest. She pulled back slowly to find a pair of questioning, and definitely disappointed brown eyes pleading with her. "HM, this really isn't the place –"

"Or time, I know." Murdock's voice was low and thick. He took a deep breath, and quirked a smile at her. "Maybe we'll get to bunk together."

Sydney felt herself flush at the thought. "You really think Hannibal's going to allow that?"

"You have a point." His smile turned manic. "We could go out back . . . I bet I could get Face to run interference."

Sydney launched off his lap. "I don't think, so, Captain."

"C'mon, where's your sense of adventure? We could go back to the utility shed. It'd be just like old times."

Sydney crossed her arms and turned on him, but the teasing smile on Murdock's face killed the comeback before it left her mouth. She satisfied herself with a curt, "Asshole."

"Ah, don't be like that honey."

She relented and flashed him a half-hearted smile. "I should go find Haley, anyway. I promised her that I'd talk to her after I talked to you."

Murdock stood up and stretched. "Where is she?"

"Hannibal recruited her to help Face and Frankie make dinner."

"Well, I need a shower – a cold one." He sniffed at an underarm and made a face. "I don't know how you stood me."

Sydney chuckled. "I never really minded how you smelled. Except maybe that time Ray locked you and Face in the latrine for half the day."

"Yeah, good ol' Ray." He laughed "It was a great stunt. We got him back, though."

Syd shook her head. "Did it ever end, or are you still pulling pranks on Ray long distance?"

Murdock's jaw clenched. "Ray's dead, Syd."

"But he went home." Tears sprang to her eyes and she shook her head in disbelief. "How did it happen?"

"He tried to take on a bunch of scumbags in his hometown by himself. They killed him."

"Jesus. After all that time in 'Nam, he ends up murdered in his own hometown?" Sydney swallowed and tried desperately to check the tears threatening to overflow.

"Yeah. Trish, his wife, was pregnant at the time, too." Murdock's carefree attitude had evaporated. "Face sends her a check once a month, just to make sure she's taken care of. She's makin' a go of it on the farm with the help of a hired hand." A slight smile returned to his lips. "Last I heard, she was kinda sweet on the guy."

Syd swiped self-consciously at her face, and took a steadying breath. "What did she have?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, a little boy – Ray, Jr. He's, like five now. I got a picture of him and Trish at my apartment - get one every Christmas."

"I remember that photo of Trish that Ray carried around in his pocket. You guys teased him mercilessly about it, but I always thought it was sweet." Syd smiled at the memory.

"Yeah, Ray was head over heels for her, no doubt about it. Kinda how I feel 'bout you." Murdock stroked her cheek, and the smoldering look in his eyes made her feel hot. "I'll be hittin' the shower . . . you're sure you won't join me?"

Syd shook her head, and Murdock snapped his fingers. "Didn't think so. Catch ya later, chaquita." He reached down and pinched her on the butt before sauntering away.

Sydney watched until he disappeared into the house. She sighed. She always had enjoyed the view when he walked away.

* * *

"I can't believe you're doing this to me!"

Sydney stared wide-eyed at her seething daughter. She should have recognized the signs that Haley was upset. Maybe it was the after-effects of her make-out session with Murdock, or the fantasies that flooded her mind when she heard the shower running in the bathroom and knew he was inside wet and naked. Either way, she didn't notice the anger in her daughter's face until they got back to Hannibal's bedroom to talk in private.

"I didn't _do_ anything to you." Sydney tried to keep her voice even, but couldn't prevent the lilt of confusion she felt.

"Two years, Mother. Two years I've followed you around – Chicago to LA, LA to Virginia – all with the promise that we might find out the truth about your past. Then when you start to remember – when things finally get interesting - I'm suddenly shut out. Relegated to the sidelines with all of the information filtered through you, like I'm some kind of . . . child."

"Haley, I told you –"

"I know what you told me. And when the time finally comes for me to hear your censored version of the truth, you decide to stay out there 'talking'" Haley made little quote marks in the air, "to _him_."

"If by 'him' you mean HM, yes, I was talking to him. And I told you when I was done, I'd be in to talk to you. Here I am."

"You weren't talking," Haley spit the words out in contempt. "You were practically screwing him on the deck."

Sydney drew her hand back, but managed to contain her anger enough to stop it from flying forward. Instead she wagged a shaking finger in Haley's face. "You watch your mouth young lady."

"Oh give it a rest, Mother. I'm 14, I could see what you were doing out there. You were out in plain sight, pawing all over each other. God, it was disgusting."

Sydney's hands balled into fists at her sides, and she silently counted to ten. When that didn't cool the anger, she spun on her heel and stalked to the door.

"So you're just going to walk out on me?"

Haley's mocking tone brought Sydney to a halt. She turned and glared at her daughter. "If I stay, I'm going to do or say something that I'll regret, almost as much as you'll regret what you just said to me. We both need to cool off. We'll discuss this later."

She jerked the door open and strode into the hall, where a concerned Murdock stood in the bathroom doorway, hair dripping, t-shirt clinging to his still-damp chest. "Syd, is something wrong?"

Her body reacted to the sight of him, and Haley's words echoed in her head, 'You were practically screwing him on the deck.' Self-disgust contorted her face into a scowl, "Everything is just fucking perfect," she muttered as she brushed past him.

*

Murdock stared after Syd until he heard the sliding door slam shut, then his attention turned to the bedroom she'd just walked out of. He hesitated, but decided that he should check on Haley. It had sounded like one hell of a fight, and he was listening to it through two closed doors.

He leaned against the door jamb and looked at his daughter. It still felt strange to think he had a daughter, especially one as grown up as Haley. She was pacing the length of the bedroom, and when she turned to retrace her steps, she caught sight of him. "What do you want?"

Murdock was startled by the venom in her voice. "Um, I heard you and your mom yelling at each other. I just thought I'd come and see what was going on."

"It's none of your business."

He took a deep breath to steady himself. A big part of him wanted to turn and walk away, but he was her father, and she was obviously distressed. Surely that called for some action on his part. "You know, sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Don't play the understanding dad bit with me. She's not even sure you _are_ my father."

His jaw dropped. "I, uh . . . I was just trying to help."

"You want to help?" Haley strode toward him, her expression fierce. "Then leave me alone!" She slammed the door.

Murdock was left staring at the closed door two inches in front of his face. He took a deep breath and blew it out. Maybe he really wasn't cut out for the whole father scene.

* * *

Hannibal stood before the tense and quiet group sitting around the dinner table. Animosity radiated from Haley like heat waves from a furnace. No one, not even BA, dared talk to her. Hannibal found it ironic that the youngest person at the table had the biggest attitude. It was one of the main reasons he was glad he never had any children. He liked the young ones, he enjoyed the young adults, but teenagers were unpredictable and moody. He would have killed one if he'd had it – had come close with both Face and Murdock, whom he suspected were barely out of their teens when he first met them.

He drew a bracing breath, and took a moment to look at each individual at the table to ensure he had their attention. "I wanted to get you all prepared for our trip tomorrow. The General is providing a plane, and we're going to head out to Crystal Lake for a relaxing weekend."

"Is Stockwell coming?" Syd's tone made it apparent that she hoped not.

"I don't expect to see Stockwell again until our return," Hannibal said.

"Good."

"Any other questions?"

"Do I have to go?"

Hannibal took a deep breath and gazed unblinking at the sullen teenager. "Yes, you have to go. We're safest if we stick together. Anyone else?" He looked around the table one more time. "Good. We'll leave at 6am, sharp. Now, let's dig in."

Haley inhaled her food, and disappeared back behind the closed door of Hannibal's bedroom. She didn't speak to anyone. Frankie and Face tried to start a conversation, but it died quickly and eventually everyone ate in silence.

Based on the fact that Murdock and Sydney were sitting at opposite ends of the table, Hannibal decided that perhaps having them do the dishes was a bad idea, not that the alternative was terribly appealing. "Sydney, please clear the table. BA, Murdock, you've got dishes."

Sydney pushed her chair back and began stacking the dishes closest to her. She gave Murdock a wide berth, and Hannibal's curiosity peaked.

As Syd disappeared into the kitchen, where she made a lot of noise stacking dishes in the sink, Hannibal turned to Murdock and hissed, "What the hell is going on?"

Murdock shook his head. "I don't have a clue. All of a sudden, Syd and Haley aren't speaking – to each other or to me."

Face looked at his friend sympathetically. "Women, can't live with 'em."

Syd reappeared, gathered the rest of the dishes and disappeared again. More crashes from the kitchen.

"Can't live without 'em?" Murdock finished.

"Actually, I was gonna stop at 'can't live with 'em.'" Face flashed his friend a wicked grin. "They sure are nice to hang out with once in awhile, though, huh buddy?"

Stockwell chose that moment to appear in the entryway. Hannibal groaned. Why couldn't the General just do as he asked and back off?

"Where's S.A. Wilson?"

*

Syd walked out of the kitchen and addressed BA. "The dishes are soaking in the sink." She turned to Stockwell and crossed her arms in irritation. "I haven't been a Special Agent in 15 years, General."

"What do you want, Stockwell." Hannibal spoke through clenched teeth.

Sydney noticed Haley creeping to the end of the hallway, likely because she had heard the car pull up outside and didn't want to miss anything. She felt her irritation at her daughter roil to the surface.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your leisurely dinner." Stockwell's condescending glance took in all of them. "But I fear I have some unfortunate news, and I did not think it could wait."

"The suspense is killing us, General," Murdock said.

Stockwell shot the pilot a withering look, then turned his shaded eyes on Sydney. "Dr. David Asher is dead."

Haley gasped, causing the men to all turn toward her. Sydney, in contrast, ignored her. "How?"

Stockwell turned back to Sydney. "It appears to be a suicide. He was found by the cleaning crew this evening in his office. Single gunshot wound to the head."

Murdock looked over to where Haley stood, pale and sobbing. "Haley, maybe you should –"

"No," Sydney said. "She wants to know what's going on so badly, she can stay and hear the cold, hard truth."

"Syd –" Murdock's entreaty was cut off by the look Sydney shot him.

"She stays." Sydney turned to Stockwell and said flatly, "It wasn't suicide."

"They found a suicide note with the body."

"So? If I was going to kill him, I'd make it look like a suicide, too. But it wasn't. Asher's far too egotistical to kill himself. He wouldn't want to deprive the world of his presence."

"Well, the local authorities see it differently."

"Then they're morons." Sydney was allowing all of the frustration of the last few hours to fuel her tirade. "I want to go to the crime scene. Surely you can arrange that with your connections, General?"

Stockwell appraised her, an enigmatic smile on his face. "Very well. I'll be waiting for you in the limo."

"Whoa," Hannibal said. "She can't just waltz out of here. If Asher's dead, who's to say she's not next on the list?

"Well, then, Colonel, I suggest you send a detail with her, unless you think _you_ can deter her." Stockwell turned and walked out of the house without a backward glance.

Murdock shoved his chair back and stood. "Get a grip, Sydney. What can you possibly accomplish by going to the scene of Asher's death?"

Sydney set her mouth in a stubborn line. "I have a firm grip, Captain, and I am going."

Murdock looked at the Colonel, who just shook his head. "BA, Face, go with her. Don't let her out of your sight."

"Colonel, I –," Murdock said.

"You stay put, Captain. One target per excursion. It's all I can handle."

Sydney locked eyes with Haley. "How about you, little girl? You're so anxious to learn what's going on first-hand, do you want to come?"

All eyes turned to her, and Haley shook her head slowly, eyes wide and red-rimmed, her mouth forming the word 'no,' though there was no sound.

"That's the first rational decision you've made this evening." Sydney turned and walked out of the house, as Haley fled down the hall to the sanctuary of the bedroom.

* * *

"C'mon, Captain. You and I are gonna do the dishes." Hannibal turned to Frankie. "You got a free night, Frank."

"And nobody to fight over the remote." Frankie headed straight for the living room.

Murdock stalked into the kitchen without a word. Hannibal looked after his pilot with a grimace. He took a deep, bracing breath and followed. Murdock had shed his coat, and was elbow deep in suds, scrubbing dishes with an intensity that Hannibal was certain didn't bode well for the ensuing discussion.

"Get it over with, Murdock. Let me have it," Hannibal said, as he rolled up his sleeves.

"You can rinse and dry."

Hannibal considered his pilot warily, before grabbing a towel to start drying. "I know you wanted to go with her . . ."

"I didn't want to go with her, Colonel. I didn't want her to go." Murdock never raised his eyes from the sink. His voice was unusually low and even.

Hannibal sighed. He hated it when Murdock got reasonable on him. "You really think we could have kept her from going?"

"You didn't even try."

"I figured it was useless to try. As I recall, Syd has a stubborn streak about a mile wide. She'll be fine. Face and BA will make sure of it. Besides, we may get some good intel out of this little excursion."

Murdock's jaw worked for several seconds before he responded. "It's risky."

"Syd is accustomed to risk."

Murdock threw the dish rag into the sink and turned to Hannibal, his gaze serious. "She's been out of the game for fifteen years, dammit!"

Hannibal tried for a reasonable tone. "She's been working as a PI, so she hasn't totally been out of the game. And she seems to have slipped back into it pretty seamlessly. You're over-reacting, Murdock. Syd will be fine."

"And if she isn't?" Murdock leaned on the sink and dragged his hands back through his hair. "I can't lose her, again, Hannibal. I . . . I can't handle it."

Hannibal put his hands on the pilot's shoulders. "You aren't going to lose her, Murdock. _We_ aren't going to lose her. I promise you that."

The haunted look in Murdock's eyes twisted Hannibal's gut into knots. He squeezed Murdock's shoulders. "_We_ will end this."

Murdock took several deep, unsteady breaths. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "How do we end something when we don't even know what it is? How can we guarantee Syd and Haley's safety? How, Colonel?"

"That's the crux of it, isn't it? Keeping Syd and Haley safe." Hannibal released Murdock's shoulders and stepped back.

Murdock's jaw set. "To me, it's the most important thing."

Hannibal searched Murdock's face, nodded. "As it should be. You have a family, now Murdock. They have to be your first priority." He pursed his lips. "But that means the Team isn't."

"The Team is my family, too."

Hannibal smiled. "I'm not asking you to make a choice between your brothers and your child and her mother, Murdock. The point I'm trying to make is that your focus in this case is not on the Team. Don't get me wrong. I don't think it should be. But, for the time being, _you_ are as much a client as Sydney and Haley are."

"Oh." Murdock took a few moments to absorb that; then his gaze turned thoughtful. "Does that mean that I'm not bound by the rule regarding client relationships?"

Hannibal smirked. "Like that would have stopped you?"

"Might have slowed me down a little," Murdock said. Hannibal was gratified to see Murdock's lips turn up in a grin.

"C'mon, Captain, let's finish the dishes."

They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, but Murdock's mind must have been working. He looked up at Hannibal. "I gotta know, Colonel. Were you really that against my relationship with Syd back in 'Nam?"

Hannibal picked up a stack of plates and put them in the cupboard to allow himself time to develop an adequate response. "After the POW camp I was under a lot of heat to get you back in the air. Morrison seemed almost religious about it. But after I brought Syd into the picture, I think Morrison took a lot flack from Lewis, who was pissed when he realized what was going on. After you were out of the infirmary, Morrison started getting on my case about you and Syd continuing to see each other. I told him basically the same thing Sydney said to me tonight – you don't turn something like that on and off. He told me to get control of my men."

Hannibal turned and grinned at Murdock. "I had to make it look good. I told Ray he had to make it look good, too."

Murdock shook his head and chuckled. "I should have known."

* * * *

**Chapter 6 Prologue**

Isaac Cheney sat at the desk in his cottage. All hell had broken lose this afternoon, right around the time he was talking to his granddaughter. Now he was on damage control, hoping it wasn't too late to salvage the situation. At least Stockwell had managed to get hold of Sydney and Haley before Lewis could make them disappear. Unfortunately, it appeared that Sydney had not fully recovered her memory. That was a problem. And now Asher was dead. He was still hoping to manipulate the situation to kill two birds with one stone, but right now he was too busy fighting fires to re-strategize on the new playing field.

He held the phone in a tight grip while trying to keep his tone appropriately light. "I'd appreciate it if you could take this one for me, Lew. It's Lisa's birthday, and we're having a family gathering to celebrate. I hate to miss it."

"Sure, Ike," Jeremy Lewis said. "It's no problem. I'll get you up to speed tomorrow at the office before I take off."

"Thanks, Lew." Ike rang off with a grimace. Shit like this always happened at the most inopportune times. This one just had to correspond to Lisa's birthday. This evening festivities would have to be cut short, and the weekend trip to the Smithsonian was definitely out. He sighed; his son had never forgiven him for these sorts of SNAFUs; would his granddaughter? He hoped she would forgive him at least this once. After this op was over, he was retiring for good.

He leaned back, chewing over the current situation with Jeremy Lewis. He had known Lew for 20 years; had mentored the gung ho recruit when he arrived in Vietnam, as he had many recruits, paying particular attention to those with promise. Lew had a confident reckless streak that propelled him forward in the Company at a breakneck speed. He also had a certain lack of a personal ethical code that made him particularly useful. Given the volatile situation in Southeast Asia at the time, an asset like Lewis was quickly put to use, running his own ops. Ike had taken pride in his part in Lew's success, both inside and outside the Company. Unfortunately, Lew had a few secrets of his own, and was obviously as concerned about Sydney Wilson as Ike was; though perhaps not in quite the same way.

Lewis and he had made a good team: efficient, methodical, thorough, innovative. Those were qualities that Lewis possessed in spades – qualities that made an excellent CIA field agent, an exceptional partner – and a formidable target.

Ike turned to the computer screen mounted into the wall and clicked several keys in rapid succession. Lew had returned his call from a payphone a few blocks from Asher's office. He'd wager the son of a bitch knew Asher was dead before the authorities did. Too bad he hadn't gotten to the doctor first. He had a feeling there was a lot he could have learned from the man. But there was no point in mourning lost opportunities.

He picked up the secured satellite line he maintained for coordinating projects. He had misgivings about it, but maybe as running into the pilot had done, seeing Lewis would prod Sydney Wilson to recall something more. He was sure his old associate, Hunt Stockwell could arrange for her to be at Asher's office, somehow.

As Sherlock Holmes would say, 'The game is afoot.'

**CHAPTER 6: Evening Out**

Sydney leaned on the filing cabinet and stared at the huge mahogany desk. She had sat in front of that desk a scant eight hours before. She wasn't sure if it was that fact, or the metallic smell of the blood pooled on the desk and soaked into the plush carpet, that was so nauseating. At least Asher's body was gone. With him had gone the ME and the crime scene technicians, leaving her alone in the office.

Voices in the outer office made Sydney jump. She adjusted the folder shoved into the back of her jeans so it wasn't too noticeable. It was a good thing BA and Face blocked the door into the inner office like sentries. Voices from the outer office floated in to her.

"I don't like this, but seeing as how the techs are done, I don't suppose there's anything they can hurt."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate your tolerance."

Sydney caught her breath. She recognized that voice, and turned. Over Face's and BA's heads she could see Jeremy Lewis, her old partner.

Lewis stepped to the inner office door as the police lieutenant he'd been talking to left. BA and Face did not move aside.

Syd could see Face's smile in profile. It wasn't pleasant. "Sorry. This is a private party."

"Hello, Peck."

"Lewis. I'd say it's nice to see you, but I never really liked you that much."

"Gee, here I thought we were best friends."

"Let him in, Face."

Face looked back at Sydney, his gaze questioning. At her nod, he motioned to BA and stepped aside. BA offered a warning growl, before moving out of Lew's way.

Lew moved into the office. "Hello, Syd." He shook his head. "It really is you."

"In the flesh."

He nodded over is shoulder. "Still hanging out with the A-Team? I kept telling you they were trouble." He glanced around the inside of the office. "Where's the flyboy?"

"Not here." Sydney crossed her arms. "What are _you_ doing here, Lewis?"

"Is that any way to greet an old friend who's doing you a big favor?" Lew's dark brows arched over his eyes, and Sydney flashed back to when she first met him. His eyes, an odd shade of golden brown that would shift subtly under different lights, had captivated her. She also recalled a mop of unruly brown hair on his head – the kind of hair that made you want to run your fingers through it. The hair was gone, now cropped close to his head, but that just served to make his leonine eyes even more striking.

Sydney shook herself. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day. How are you, Lew?"

"I'm good." He took a step forward and put a hand under her chin, his thumb stroking cheek. "You look great, Syd. Time has treated you well."

Over Lew's shoulder, Syd saw Face take a step forward and she cringed inwardly at the murderous look in his eyes. She stepped away from Lewis and shot a warning glance at Face before responding, "The body's held up ok; too bad the mind didn't. Took me until today to figure out who the hell I was."

Lew shot a goading glance over his shoulder before turning back to Sydney. "So the General tells me. Ran into Murdock at . . . the grocery store, was it? Lucky guy."

"Guess we're both pretty lucky." Sydney pursed her lips. "So, Lew, what's your interest in a local suicide?"

"Asher still has ties to the CIA. I'm just here protecting the Company's interests."

"Well, I appreciate you getting me in the door. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I had to come. I've been seeing Asher for 15 years. It's quite a shock to lose him so suddenly."

Lewis closed the distance she had put between them and placed an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Syd. I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you. From what I've heard, Asher was a hell of a therapist."

"You didn't know him?"

He shook his head. "I'm working international affairs, so I don't do a lot of domestic work anymore. I'm just here as a favor to a buddy who didn't want to miss his granddaughter's birthday party."

Sydney slid out of the circle of Lew's arm and walked around the desk, trying to put some space between them. It didn't work. He followed and stood close behind her. "It really is good to see you again, Sydney. Really good." His voice was low, meant only for her ears.

"15 years is a long time, Lew."

"Too long." He leaned forward, so close she could feel the heat coming off of him. "Why don't you ditch the gruesome twosome so we can go get a drink somewhere?"

He waited, unmoving. His eyes smoldered with an emotion she couldn't name, though she instinctively shivered under the intensity of the gaze.

Lew must have noticed her reaction. He smiled, and leaned closer, his lips almost brushing her ear as he spoke in a low, seductive murmur. "C'mon, Syd, let's blow this place. Find somewhere a little more . . . private; where we can get reacquainted."

Sydney took a deep breath. "I don't think so, Lew."

His face hardened. "Need to get home to the flyboy?"

She turned and gave him a hard look. "No. I need to get home to my daughter."

She pushed past him and spoke to Face and BA. "I'm ready to head back."

*

Face put a hand at the small of Syd's back, where he could feel the flat bulk of the file she lifted. He urged her quickly out of the office area and down the hall to the rear entrance. "I don't like the way he looks at you."

"How's that?"

"Like he wants to devour you."

She chuckled. "C'mon, Face. You're starting to sound like Murdock . . . and I don't recall sleeping with you."

"Almost." Face smirked at her, but then his gaze sobered. "This is serious, Syd."

"No shit."

"You're taking it too lightly. You let Lew get way too close for comfort. If he'd tried anything there's nothing BA or I could have done. And what if he had noticed the file?"

"He didn't, and there's no way he'd try anything while you two were there. I was safe."

"It was reckless, Sydney." Face decided he was wasting his breath. He took a calming breath. "Nice job with the pick, by the way. I couldn't have done much better myself."

"Thanks. I've kept in practice."

"Did you find anything interesting?"

"We'll see."

They reached the limo and BA retrieved a scanner from the trunk.

Sydney held out her arms, and BA swept her. Up at her shoulder, it began beeping. He reached up under the collar of her jacket, and pulled out a tracking button.

"What did he say to you when you were standing by the window?" Face asked.

Syd looked at the button, and pursed her lips. "He wanted me to ditch you and go out for a drink."

"Murdock is gonna flip."

Sydney grabbed Face's collar. "Not if we don't tell him."

He pulled his shirt out of her grip and straightened it, his eyes narrowed. "Tell me you weren't thinking about it."

"Of course not," she said as she got into the limo. Face couldn't help thinking she had answered a little too quickly.

"What do I do with this?" BA held out the tracker.

"We'll find somewhere interesting to plant it." Like maybe up Lewis' ass, Face thought with a grim smile.

Then he can chase his own tail and leave Syd's alone.

* * *

Sydney gripped the file and shook her head. "It's private, Hannibal. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you reading it."

Hannibal took a long drag on his cigar. "OK, Syd, I can see your point. But I want a full report on anything of interest that you find. And I do mean full. Understood?"

She nodded, and Hannibal jabbed his cigar in the direction of the deck. "Now get your ass out there and at least talk to Murdock. He's been driving _me_ crazy since you left."

Sydney started toward the hallway, and Hannibal grabbed her arm. "You're goin' the wrong way."

"I'm just putting this in the bedroom." She gave Hannibal the sincerest smile she could muster. "I promise, I'll go talk to him in just a few minutes."

Sydney felt heat creep up her cheeks at Hannibal's appraising look. "I promise, Hannibal."

He nodded and let her go.

She dropped the file on the desk in Hannibal's room, and slipped out to the deck through the private door.

It was a warm and clear Virginia night, with a full moon and millions of stars overhead. Syd took a deep breath, and the sweet smell of the viburnum shrubs that lined the back of the deck gave her a heady feeling. She sighed, that probably wasn't the right frame of mind to go talk to Murdock in. She was going to have enough trouble keeping her hormones in check as it was. And she was resolved to do just that.

"Hey, chaquita."

Sydney jumped and spun around to face the lanky shadow. "You scared the shit out of me, HM."

"Sorry. Heard you come out the door." He moved out of the shadows and Sydney cursed silently as her heart rate refused to slow down. It was a tactical error on her part. She should have asked him to come into the living room to talk.

"So how did it go?"

"Um, fine, it went fine. Turns out it was Lew that got us in the door."

Murdock's jaw tensed. "Was Lewis there?"

"Yes, he was there."

He walked forward and leaned on the rail, his white-knuckled grip on it the only hint to his true feelings. "So, how is ol' Lew?"

"He hasn't changed much."

Murdock nodded and leaned down so his forearms rested along the top of the rail. He gazed out across the compound grounds, and the silence stretched. Sydney moved to the bench, about five feet from where he stood. She hoped the distance would help her maintain some emotional detachment, as she cast about for a way to raise the subject they needed to discuss.

"So, was it worth the risk?"

She started at Murdock's voice. "I managed to lift my file out of the office, so I'd say it was worth the risk. Though I question how much risk there really was. BA and Face followed Hannibal's orders – they didn't let me out of their sight."

"Face could have handled that chore, Syd." His voice was tight, almost accusing. "There was no reason for you to go there."

"Face already gave me the lecture, thank you." Sydney sighed. "You know, it used to drive me insane how you two could complete each other's sentences. It was like dating a guy with two freaking heads."

Murdock chuckled, and Sydney was glad to see him finally relax his stance, as he shifted so he could face her. "Faceman always has my back."

"Yeah, I know. Face, Ray, BA, Rem, Hannibal . . . you all looked out for each other. Gave me some peace of mind when we were apart."

"Wish I had the same peace of mind."

"Regardless of what you think of Lew, he never would have let anything happen to me. He had my back as much as Face had yours."

Murdock looked down at the decking. "Was that all he had, Syd?"

"Huh?"

He took a deep breath and looked at her directly. "Were you and Lew . . . involved?"

"No." She cringed at the uncertainty she saw reflected in his face; uncertainty about her. She gazed at him steadily, and repeated her denial. "Never."

A slight smile curved his lips, though she thought she still detected a hint of doubt in his warm, brown eyes. With difficulty, Sydney ignored the urge to put her arms around him. She knew if she did, she wouldn't be able to let go.

"Lew was my partner, HM. There was never anything more."

"OK – then let's stop talking about him. He may have been your partner, but that doesn't mean I liked the guy. For one thing, he got to spend way more time with you than I did." Murdock grinned at her. "Never thought I'd want to rejoin the Company for a girl!"

She returned the smile. "The real question is: 'did you ever really leave the Company?'"

"Once a spy, always a spy?" He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and took a deep breath. "What about us, Syd? What the heck happened this afternoon? And what the hell is up with Haley?"

She shook her head. Murdock's tendency to switch subjects abruptly was disconcerting, though she was glad he'd brought up what she wanted to discuss. "What did she say to you?"

"She basically told me to mind my own business, since you weren't even sure I was her father."

Sydney winced. Now the Lew discussion was in context. "HM, Haley was in a hurtful mood this evening. She's frustrated, and she takes it out on the people she's closest to. You should take it as a good sign that she lashed out at you – it means you're in."

Murdock shoved his hands in his pockets and started pacing. "Made me feel out – way out. What's she frustrated about?"

"Perhaps you haven't noticed, but she's sent out of the room every time the discussion gets dicey. I know why you guys are uncomfortable talking in front of her, but she's as vested in discovering the truth as I am. It's a tightrope, and I'm afraid I kinda . . . misstepped this afternoon."

"Misstepped?"

"I promised her I'd talk to her after I was done talking to you. Then . . ." Sydney swallowed, and felt a warmth spread through her body as she recalled their encounter this afternoon. "Well, you know what happened. Anyway, she saw what was going on, and stewed about it, and basically worked herself into a thither over the perceived injustice."

"Oh." Murdock grimaced. "Damn. I didn't even think about Haley."

"Neither did I, but I am now. As anxious as I am not to waste another minute with you, I really think we're gonna have to put on the brakes and give Haley some time to adjust to . . . everything."

Murdock's pacing had brought him inexorably closer to Sydney. He stopped in front of her, and she became giddy with his proximity. She stood and took a step back, but the railing prevented further retreat.

"So, we're on hold."

"I'm afraid so."

"And here I just got the green light from Hannibal." He took a deep breath. "That's gonna be a challenge."

Sydney licked her lips. "Yeah."

He took a step forward, and Sydney caught her breath. He was far too close, now. She gripped the railing at her back, her fingernails biting into the wood. "We should say goodnight, HM."

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, as if trying to make sure they would behave. He leaned down and kissed her lightly. Sydney closed her eyes, savoring the brief pressure of his lips on hers.

"Goodnight, Syd." His voice was warm with a timbre of desire that swept through her. She was glad she had a tight grip on the railing, or she might have forced him to catch her. That would have been a disaster.

He turned on his heel and strode down the back steps, disappearing into the shadows of the compound grounds. It was a few minutes before Sydney trusted her jelly-legs enough to carry her to the bedroom she was sharing with her daughter.

* * * *

**CHAPTER 7: Nocturnal Activities**

Sydney sat at the desk and turned on the lamp, illuminating the file she lifted from Asher's office. She weighed the need for sleep against the desire to find out what was in the file, and decided that sleep would be elusive anyway. Lying in bed, in the dark, with only a wall between her and Murdock was not a recipe for a good night's rest. If she was going to be awake, she might as well make the time productive.

The first record in the folder was her medical history from the Laos hospital. At the top of the sheet the Lao word for 'Unknown' had been crossed out, replaced by 'Jane Doe' and highlighted overhead was her elected name 'Alexis Smith.'

'Jâo seu nyãng?' The words echoed through the recollections of her first few waking hours, as the question was asked again and again. 'What is your name?' She remembered her frustration and terror – wanting to scream at them to stop. She understood the question, in both English and Lao, and it didn't matter how many times they asked. She simply couldn't answer. She didn't know.

Enter Dr. Asher. He had seemed like a savior at the time. Though she hated the Jane Doe moniker, it was far better than being called nothing. It was almost a week later that he showed up with the baby name book, and had her select a name that 'felt' right. By then, he already had transport back to the states arranged. They left Laos the next day.

The chart had a grocery-list of the injuries with which she had arrived at the Laos hospital. She read through it several times, making notes of technical terms that described her condition at the time.

Sydney sat back and stared at the page of scrawled medical jargon: fractures of the proximal phalanges, costal ribs, and left humerus, concussion, excessive intercranial pressure, multiple contusions, lesions and burns located across the body, including fingertips, making fingerprinting impossible; all of that she knew. However, the 'evidence of rape' was news to her. She knew she shouldn't be surprised; but in truth, the possibility never crossed her mind. Dr. Asher never mentioned it, and she _had_ always assumed that he was honest with her. She pushed the chair back and walked to the patio door, staring out at the stars, her thoughts a chaotic tumble of absent and conflicting memories and hard evidence. She shook her head.

"Mom, are you OK?" Haley's sleep-laden voice startled Sydney.

"I'm fine." Sydney allowed the white lie to hover between her and her daughter. "It's late honey, you should get back to sleep."

Haley squinted into the light, now streaming into her face from the desk lamp without Sydney in the chair to block it. "Are you coming to bed?"

"I'm too wired to sleep." Sydney walked to the desk and flipped the file shut to pick it up before she switched off the light. "Sorry I woke you. I'll go out to the dining room."

Sydney stopped by the bed and smoothed the hair back from Haley's face. "Sleep, honey. We have to be up early in the morning."

"Do I have to go to Crystal Lake?"

"Yes, Haley. You heard Hannibal. We have to stick together."

"Fine." she rolled over, back to Sydney.

"You know, Haley, this is difficult for everyone concerned, not just you." Sydney sank onto the edge of the bed and laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "I'm sorry about this afternoon, honey. I really am. I never meant to exclude you, or ignore you. But you have to understand just how overwhelming it is to remember . . . and just how upsetting some of what I'm remembering is going to be for you to hear. So much that happened during the war was . . ." Sydney cast about for an adequate descriptor: disturbing, frightening, terrifying – all seemed inadequate.

"I'm a big girl, Mother."

Sydney looked down at the file on her lap. "Yes, you've always been mature for your age. But I'm talking about things that even I am having trouble dealing with. You need to give me time to come to grips with what I'm learning."

"I suppose that includes HM?" Haley looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"I suppose it does." Sydney sighed. "We're both coping with a lot of unresolved feelings. I know it's been 15 years, but it's all fresh in my mind –"

"When you conceived me in a passionate encounter?" Haley's tone was wistful.

"You're romanticizing it, Haley." Sydney weighed what to say, unwilling to completely burst her daughter's bubble yet. "I think you've been reading too much Harlequin, young lady. Now, really, you need to go to sleep."

She stood up and walked to the door.

"Mom?"

"Sleep, Haley."

"I know. There's just one thing." She shifted to face Sydney again. "How certain are you that HM is my father?"

Sydney stopped, hand on the door knob. She had hoped to avoid this question. She turned and looked into her daughter's warm, brown eyes – HM's eyes. "As certain as I can be, honey."

Haley sighed. "But maybe he's not?"

"The timing of our . . . encounter would be about right for him to be your father, Haley. I don't recall the next five or six weeks, so that's the best evidence I can give you; that and the fact that you have his eyes."

Sydney turned to leave, but stopped one last time and fixed her daughter with a stern gaze. "Speaking of HM, you need to apologize to him tomorrow.

Haley sat up. "For what?"

"Don't give me that line of crap. You know damn well 'for what.' He's having just as much trouble with the new playing field as you are. Give him a break."

"Fine."

"Good. Now, go to sleep."

Sydney strode down the hall and settled at the dining room table, opening her file once again to pick up where she left off. She allowed herself to become immersed in the sea of psycho-babble that followed the medical history. The technical jargon lulled her mind from the nagging questions that surrounded the blank pages of her memory.

Murdock lay on his back, across the maze of tires on the obstacle course, his jacket folded and propping up his head. The heat of the day was fading, and he could feel the humidity settling on him. He hoped it would get cold enough to put out the flame burning his core. Every time Syd walked into a room his penis stood at attention. It was embarrassing.

Face appeared, standing over him, hands on hips. "What are you doing out here?"

"Trying to cool off."

Face laughed. Murdock debated whether it was a 'with him' or 'at him' kind of laugh.

"Syd cut you off, didn't she?"

There was his answer. "Don't rub it in, qui no sabe." He enunciated his words carefully.

"I thought it was 'kemo sabe?'"

Murdock flashed a mocking grin at his friend. He knew Face hated it when he played linguistic games with him. It made it that much more fun. "Depends on what you're tryin' to say."

Face kicked his foot. "So, what does it mean?"

"Loosely translated, it means clueless."

"Asshole."

"Mismo a usted."

"Speak fucking English, Murdock."

"Same to you."

Face dropped onto one of the tires, and rested his arms on his knees. "And here I was trying to be a good friend and come out here to cheer me up."

"Hell of a Freudian slip there, oh Facial one."

"More of a slide." Face looked sideways at Murdock. "What happened? Looked like you two were getting along fine earlier."

"Syd and I are fine. Haley and I, not so much." Murdock turned to his friend. "I don't have a clue how to be a father – especially to a teenage girl. I mean all I did was ask her if she wanted to talk about it. Was that wrong?"

Face shrugged. "How long have you known Haley?"

"An hour or two longer than you."

"And you think that in less than 12 hours she's just going to accept you as her father? That's a stretch, Murdock."

"I thought . . .." Murdock's face fell. "I know it is. It's just . . . I want this so bad, Face."

"I know. We all do. A family, white picket fence, normal life." Face stretched his legs out and leaned back on his elbows. "But to Haley it all has to be pretty weird. I mean, it sounds like it's just been her and Syd for all this time, and suddenly here are all these strange men who treat her mother like the prodigal daughter. You have to realize how strange it must seem to her."

Murdock sighed. "I guess. Syd said we needed to slow down and let Haley get used to . . . . everything."

"Not that it makes it any easier, but she's probably right."

"There's logic, and there's libido – in this case, never shall the twain meet."

"Ah, that pesky libido – has you thinking with your little brain, doesn't it?"

"The little brain has a mind of its own – that doesn't mean it's in control."

Face raised an eyebrow at Murdock and smirked. "I have to admit, pregnancy must have agreed with Syd, 'cause she sure did fill out nice. She was a stick when we knew her back in 'Nam. Now she's got curves in all the right places. Honestly, can you blame little brain?"

"You're not helping, Face."

Face shrugged. "Didn't say I was trying to help. So you have to wait a couple days. You still get the girl."

Murdock turned and looked at his friend. When they first met Syd, they had engaged in a brief rivalry over her attention. "Still wishing you hadn't headed off-base for that weekend with the pretty nurse, Face?"

"Not sure I'd give up that weekend for Syd. She was a little . . . tame for my taste." Face grinned at him. "Of course, then we learned that she was lying. I have to admit, when she told us she was in intelligence, she was way more interesting."

"Way more interesting," Murdock agreed. He remembered the first briefing after Syd had returned as part of the Team's CIA recon detail. The realization that she wasn't some USO fluff chick, but a working intelligence agent had turned him on. It seemed to have the opposite effect on his best friend.

Murdock shook his head. "There's only one problem with dating a spy. You know they're lying to you, you're just never sure what they're lying about."

Face grinned at him. "Admit it, you just thought it was hot that she carried a gun."

"It was way hotter knowing she could kill a guy with her bare hands. Made the prospect of wrestling with her just a little risky, know what I mean?"

"Amen, brother."

Murdock sighed at the inevitable reaction of his body to thoughts like that about Syd. He rolled himself to a sitting position and decided it was time to change the subject. "Tell me what happened at Asher's office."

Face shrugged. "What did Syd tell you?"

"Evasive, Face." He waited, but when Face didn't respond, he baited him. "She told me Lewis was there."

Face blew out a pent-up breath. "Good. And yes, he was there; walked in just a few minutes after Syd got the damn file door shut. Too close for my comfort."

"You let him just walk in?"

"Chill, Murdock. Syd was safe. BA and I never left the room."

Murdock's gaze narrowed. "I can't help thinking Lewis is involved in this somehow. I never did like that guy."

"He planted a tracker on her collar. I'm thinking he's at least been recruited as a lackey, if nothing else."

Murdock turned wide eyes on his friend. "Just how close did you let Lewis get to her?"

"Uhhhh." Face stood up. "Close enough to plant a bug, but not _that_ close."

Murdock shot to his feet. "What the hell does '_that close_' mean?"

"I told Sydney you'd flip." Face backed off, holding up his hands.

Murdock leaned down, plucked his jacket off the tires, and shrugged into it. "I did not flip."

"OK, you didn't flip." Face chuckled. "But you gotta admit, Lew still makes the green-eyed monster rear its ugly head."

Murdock turned his back on Face and strode away. "I'm going to bed."

Face caught up to him and slugged him in the shoulder as he jogged by. "Last one to the deck sleeps in the dog house. Oh. I forgot. You're already there."

"You're a dead man, Face."

He flashed Murdock one last mocking smirk, before he spun around and took off at a sprint. Murdock pounded after him, but Face never slowed and never looked back. He ran all the way to the back door, where he paused only long enough to jerk it open. Murdock put on a last burst of speed to reach the door before his friend could lock it on him.

Face came to an abrupt stop just inside the living room, and Murdock plowed into him with enough force to send both of them several feet further into the house. "Why did you stop –"

"Hi Syd," Face said, as Murdock caught his shoulder to keep them both from falling on their faces.

"You two better keep it down before you wake up the whole house." Sydney shook her head. "Out for a midnight run?"

"Just working out some, uh -" Face looked at Murdock, and chuckled. "Just working out some frustration, that's all."

Murdock's hand shot out and missed the back of Face's head by inches, as the agile man hopped away.

A slight smile played around Sydney's lips. "You two haven't changed at all."

We're older." Face moved back to Murdock's side, and nudged him with a shoulder.

"Speak for yourself," Murdock countered.

Face shrugged. "True, you've actually regressed."

This time, Murdock's hand connected with the back of Face's head.

Face grimaced. "I'll take that as my cue to leave." He gave them a broad wink. "You two kids have fun." He took off down the hall.

Murdock closed his eyes and shook his head. Then he turned to Sydney. "Sorry. I . . . should probably head to bed, too . . ."

She pressed her lips together, and nodded, but something in her face stopped him.

He tilted his head. "Are you OK, Syd?"

She gave a bark of a laugh and rolled her eyes.

Obviously not. "Stupid question, huh? Anything you want to talk about?"

She fingered the first few pages of the file, then looked up into worried brown eyes. "You know how you felt when you realized that Richter might be part of . . . whatever this mess is?'

He nodded.

"Imagine learning that it's almost a sure thing." Syd flipped the file shut.

Murdock sighed, and sat down. Obviously, she needed to talk. Maybe if he stayed on this side of the table, he'd be OK. "What did you find?"

Sydney stared at him, and he wondered at the uncertainty he thought he recognized in her eye. She looked down and sighed. "Asher's been lying to me from day one. How many lies has he told me over the last 15 years, HM? And more importantly, why?"

"I don't know. But we will find out. You know how Hannibal is. We'll get to the bottom of this, Syd."

She gazed into his eyes, and he felt a familiar stirring in his core. He covered her hand and squeezed. "It'll be alright, Syd. You have to believe that."

"I hope you're right, HM. I really do."

"Faith, sweetheart. Have faith."

She snorted. "In what?"

"In us. In the Team."

She flashed him an apologetic smile. "That I have."

Murdock gave her hand one last squeeze and stood up. "Good. And now, I'm going to bed. And you should, too."

"I'm almost done with the file. I'll finish it up and then head to bed."

"Syd, it's late."

Sydney flipped the file folder open. "You are _not_ my father."

Murdock watched her for several seconds, before he decided he could weather one last temptation. He walked around the table and leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

When she looked up at him, her smile was again apologetic. "I just can't sleep right now, HM. Thanks for the pep talk, though. I really needed it."

"Promise to go to sleep sometime tonight?"

"I don't like making promises I'm not sure I'll keep."

He sighed and ran a hand over her hair, letting the silky strands run through his fingers. "At least you're honest." He allowed his fingers to brush her cheek before deciding he'd tempted himself enough for one night. "Good night, sweetheart."

*

Sydney gazed after him, the warmth from his hand still lingering on her cheek. If only that warmth would permeate her frigid mind. She glanced down at the top page of the file, and the words 'evidence of rape' glared at her as if written in neon. Had he seen it while he was standing there? She shook her head. She should have told him. No, it would be better if she told him and Haley at the same time. Haley would be irritated if HM found out before her. At least that was a valid excuse.

Sydney flipped back to where she left off, but unshed tears blurred the words in front of her. A small part of her longed to go back to the ignorance of being Alexis Smith, but it was a very small part. Alexis Smith had no history with HM Murdock at all, and that was something she would not give up for anything.

She flipped the page, even though she had barely absorbed a word. What she saw registered slowly as odd. "What the hell?"

* * *

Haley woke with a start.

"Are you OK?" The disembodied whisper sent her heart racing, before the sleep fog cleared and she recognized the voice.

"Jerry, is that you?"

"Of course. I told you I'd keep an eye on you. What are you doing here?"

"We came here with my . . . um, a friend of Mom's."

"He's not a friend, Haley. I told you, the A-Team are dangerous men."

"They seem like nice guys." Haley was embarrassed. She had let her guard down even after Jerry had told her to beware of the A-Team. In her defense, though, she hadn't realized who they were at first.

"People aren't always what they seem." There was a pause, and she heard Jerry shift. "Why didn't you bring the phone I gave you? I told you to keep it with you all the time. It's difficult to watch over you when you slip away like that."

"Mom put it in the bag with my old clothes after we left home this afternoon and then HM left it at the store. I'm sorry."

"That's where I found it. Here." A hand stretched out in the dark, and Haley took the offered hand set. "Keep it hidden. If the Team finds out you have it, they'll take it away, and we'll be cut off again."

"It's hard to hide. It's too big."

"Do your best. I do have a couple backup plans, in case you lose the phone again."

"Jerry, did you know Dr. Asher is dead? Mom thinks he was murdered. And the Team is planning on taking us away." Haley was having trouble controlling herself enough to keep her voice low. "Why can't Mom and I just leave with you – now? I can go get her. The rest of them are asleep."

"Not yet. It's too dangerous. They'll kill both of you, like they did Asher, before they allow you to get away. I don't want to take that chance. I'm working on an exit strategy. For now, you'll just have to play along. You can do that, Haley. I know you can. Now, where are they taking you?"

"We're leaving for Crystal Lake in the morning. All I know is that it's somewhere over in California. I'd guess it's near LA."

"California." The silence stretched so long that Haley thought he might have left. "I think I know what they're up to. I'll head out there tonight, and see if I can neutralize the situation."

She heard movement. "Are you leaving?"

"I have to go. But I'll still be tracking you, Haley. I promise. I won't let anything happen to my little girl." The whisper of the door sliding shut heralded his exit.

His words of assurance helped calm her fears, though not entirely. She wasn't sure who to trust, but felt like she needed to somehow offset her mother's unquestioning reliance on the A-Team. When Jerry first introduced himself to her, shortly after they arrived in Virginia, she had been thrilled. He told her he knew who her mother was and he knew Dr. Asher. They had a plan in place to reveal the truth to Mom slowly. It had all sounded so plausible, easy. All she had to do was make sure her mother didn't cut ties with Asher at this critical juncture. Jerry promised he would reveal everything to her, as soon as he had everything worked out with Dr. Asher, supposedly to ensure her mom would not suffer a psychotic break with the revelation.

Those carefully-laid plans had all been foiled when they ran into Murdock at the grocery store. At first Haley thought it was a good thing, shortcutting the lengthy process Jerry and Dr. Asher had developed. But that was before she realized Murdock was connected to the A-Team. Unfortunately, by that time, she had already developed a soft spot for the quirky man. She had trouble reconciling the Murdock she had met with the 'danger' that Jerry warned against.

The truth was, she wasn't sure about Jerry either; and she knew she had to guard against Murdock's ability to lull her into a false sense of comfort and security.

Until she knew who to trust, she was determined to rely only on herself.

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 8**

Lewis stowed his few possessions in the overhead compartment and dropped into the seat in coach. He was exhausted, and he knew the only sleep he would get would be during the flight. He had to intercept Richter before the team could get to him. If anyone could undo what Asher had done, Richter could. That had to be prevented. He was going to have enough trouble winning Syd over as it was.

He had seriously considered taking Haley up on the option of taking her and Syd at Stockwell's compound, but security was tight enough that he had trouble getting himself out, let alone two other people. He also doubted that Sydney would be terribly cooperative. The combination of circumstances was too unfavorable to risk a move. He would just have to make an opportunity to retrieve them elsewhere. At least he was able to get the sat-phone back to Haley.

Lewis leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The next couple days were going to be long ones. He had better rest while he could.

**CHAPTER 8: Trip to Tension**

Hannibal tapped Sydney on the shoulder. "Time to wake up sleeping beauty."

Syd's head jerked off the dining room table. She gazed around in confusion for a moment, then yawned and stretched. "What time is it?"

"0500," Hannibal said. "Just how late were you up?"

She shrugged. "No clue."

"She was still up when I hit the hay 'round 2am." Murdock flashed her a teasing grin as he made a beeline for the coffee maker.

"Did you find anything interesting?" Hannibal scanned what he could see of the documents in the file.

Sydney flipped a sheet over, and at first Hannibal thought she was hiding something, but then she pointed to the blue smudges all over the back of the page. "Actually, the content of the file is mostly pretty boring, but this caught my eye."

Hannibal picked the page up and peered at it. He could make out smeared letters that appeared to be mirror images of those on the front. "Carbon copy?"

"Yes, looks like somebody got the carbon paper in backward on this one."

Hannibal shrugged and handed it back to her. "So?"

"Why would he be making a carbon copy of my session notes?"

Murdock stood in the kitchen doorway, the coffee maker gurgling behind him. "Richter routinely made copies of mine."

"Maybe for you it can be explained away, since you were in the VA system. But I was a private patient. No one had any business reviewing my file outside of me and my doctor." Sydney's eyes flashed in anger. "And another thing – Stockwell told us Asher wasn't connected to the CIA any longer; but Lewis told me Asher was still affiliated with the CIA. That's why he was at the office last night. You ask me, it looks like someone had something to cover-up."

"Maybe Asher was consulting with another doctor on your case?" Hannibal suggested.

Sydney shook her head. "Asher wasn't one to consult on anything. Besides, he would have had to ask my permissions, and he never did. I'd like to know where the hell the duplicates are."

"Maybe in Asher's Chicago office?" Hannibal suggested.

"Maybe." Sydney's eyes reflected doubt, for a brief moment, before her resolve hardened her gaze. "Or in an office drawer at the CIA, which would explain why there were agents watching me. I think someone at the CIA knew who I was, and knew that I was alive and well."

"There were agents on her, Hannibal. Stockwell seemed to think they were CIA, but who knows." Murdock glanced back as the coffee maker gave a final gurgle and fell silent. "Coffee's ready!" He ducked back into the kitchen.

"That does put a different spin on it." Hannibal chewed on his cigar. "But why have surveillance on you? Why not just pull you in? It seems like an awful lot of trouble for an agent who's been MIA for 15 years."

"All I know is that it will really piss me off if the Company has known all this time, and never bothered to clue me in."

"I'll bet it was Lewis." Murdock handed Hannibal a cup of coffee.

Sydney slowly nodded. "I suppose it's possible . . . though he seemed genuinely surprised to see me last night. I don't know. I always had trouble reading Lew."

Hannibal chuckled. "Yeah, well, Murdock's suspicion _is_ a bit tainted. Lew helped us out last night, but we'll keep him at arm's length. I think it's pretty suspicious that he was in Asher's office at all. The General said he was working internationally – why would he be involved in a local shrink suicide? Even if Asher _was_ under contract to the CIA." He started pacing. "Actually, the General's early interest in this whole thing is what really has my juices flowing. What the hell does Stockwell have to gain from you recovering your memory?"

"I don't trust Stockwell, but as far as Lew's presence last night, he said he was there as a favor to a buddy. He told me he didn't know Asher, personally." Sydney stared at the papers in front of her. "I just have trouble accepting Lew was involved. I know he didn't get along with you guys, but he was a good agent. We gathered a lot of intel on the NVA. It's hard to believe he could be in league with Morrison and Kyeh, especially without me knowing."

"Maybe you did know." Hannibal glanced into the kitchen and caught Murdock's eye; he nodded in understanding.

Murdock entered the dining room and put a cup of coffee in front of Syd, as he slid into the seat next to her. It appeared to Hannibal that he took an awful lot of care to not touch her in the process, though a moment later, he put a hand over hers on the table. "We had a hard time accepting that Morrison was on the NVA payroll, too, sweetheart. But when you get slapped in the face with the truth, it's hard to ignore. Hannibal's right, any information leaked to Lewis could get to the wrong people. We need to avoid him."

Sydney took a deep breath and nodded; then gave Murdock a half-hearted smile. "Upsets you, doesn't it?"

He grinned. "Breaks my little ol' heart!"

Hannibal nodded. "We're agreed then. Until we know who we can trust, we keep everything internal as much as possible. We're going to have to leverage outside assets, but they're status is definitely 'need-to-know.'"

Murdock and Sydney both nodded in the right direction. Hannibal put a hand on Murdock's shoulder. "How about you get breakfast going, Captain, while I rouse the rest of the troops."

"I'll go wake Haley." Sydney slid her hand out from under Murdock's, her movement slow and reluctant. Murdock gave her retreating fingers a quick squeeze before standing up to head to the kitchen.

Hannibal watched as Syd and Murdock went opposite directions, and pursed his lips in thought. When those two were near each other, it felt like the moments just before a huge thunderstorm lets loose. It was affecting everyone to different degrees. Something was going to have to give on that front, soon. He couldn't have Murdock distracted like he was. They all needed to be at their best, now that they were leaving the relative security of the Compound.

Though he was concerned about the trip, he was looking forward to returning to the Team stomping grounds on the west coast. Once there, _they_ would have the upper hand.

And there, they could disappear if necessary.

* * *

Sydney woke Haley up with a smack on the foot. "Cmon, girl. Time to wake up. HM's making breakfast."

"What time is it?" Haley's voice was muffled by the covers over her head.

"A little after five."

"AM? You _have_ to be kidding me." Haley sat up, and squinted at Sydney. "Did you sleep last night?"

"I got a couple hours."

"Did you spend the night with HM?" Haley's tone held a hint of accusation.

"I saw him, and we talked, but I didn't spend the night in his bed, if that's what you're inferring."

"Did you talk like you talked earlier?" She cocked an eyebrow at Sydney.

"Haley, we agreed to give ourselves, and you, some time to adjust to recent developments. So the answer is 'no' – not 'like we talked earlier.'" As she said the last four words Sydney wiggled her fingers in a mocking likeness of her daughter's quotation mark gesture. "But you are going to have to come to grips with the fact that he's going to be part of our life."

"Whatever." Haley yawned and stood up. "I suppose I have to put on the clothes _he_ bought for me yesterday?"

Sydney waved to the corner of the room. "Face and BA picked up some clothes from the house last night."

"Thank God. Can I take a shower?"

"That's only going to provide a few more minutes reprieve."

"Reprieve?"

"From your apology to HM." Sydney smiled at her daughter. "You didn't honestly think I would forget did you?" She gave Haley a parting glare before she disappeared out the door.

* * *

"'Bout time you rolled out here, kiddo." Murdock flipped the pancake in the pan. "Got a fresh one here just for you. Get yourself a plate."

Less than a minute later, with a quick twist of his wrist, Murdock deposited a perfect, golden pancake onto Haley's plate. She looked at it and scowled. "What's this?"

Murdock tipped the batter dipper three times in quick succession over the sizzling pan, before glancing at Haley's plate. "Looks like a pancake." He leaned over and sniffed at it. "Smells like a pancake. Well I'll be darned. I think it's a pancake."

She grunted. "I mean, what shape is it supposed to be?"

"Mickey Mouse."

"I'm not 8."

"14, right?"

"Right, 14. Almost an adult."

"Did I say you weren't?"

Haley opened her mouth to yell at him about treating her like a child when her mother leaned into the kitchen. "Hey, HM, got a warm one for me?"

Murdock caught the pancake as it descended from its aerial somersault, a large grin splitting his face. "Have I got a warm one for you!"

Haley groaned. "Oh, for God's sake, that's disgusting."

Murdock and Sydney both looked at her, expressions impassive.

Syd sighed. "You have definitely been reading too much Harlequin lately." Haley huffed.

"Is Harlequin that hard core?" Murdock looked sideways at Sydney.

She grinned. "Yeah, some pretty racey stuff. Might be a bit much for you, flyboy."

Murdock chuckled. "Maybe I could pick up a few new moves." He picked up the pan, gave it a shake, and slid the pancake onto Sydney's plate. "There ya go, sweetheart."

"Thank you."

Haley looked at her mother's pancake as Murdock poured batter into the pan with the same 3-tip technique. "You made her a Mickey Mouse pancake, too?"

"He makes everyone Mickey Mouse pancakes, Haley - even, BA." Sydney placed a finger beside her nose and glanced pointedly at Murdock. "And don't forget what we talked about, young lady. Now's your chance."

Murdock turned to look at Haley, as Syd ducked back into the dining room. "You need something from me?" When Haley crossed her arms, he held up his hands. "Sorry, my mistake, no understanding dad bit. Forget I asked."

"I'm sorry," Haley said.

"What?"

"I said, I'm sorry. About yesterday. I – " Haley took a deep breath. "I was rude to you, and I apologize."

Murdock leaned on the counter and crossed his arms. "An apology?"

Haley locked her jaw in defiance. "Mom told me I had to."

Now a slight smile; was this guy for real? "So are you really sorry?"

Haley looked away from him. Why was he making this so difficult? "I'm really sorry."

"Doesn't really ring true when you avoid looking at the person to whom you are apologizing."

She looked back at him, and squinted at the amusement she saw reflected in his eyes. "I was angry, but it wasn't really fair to lash out at you. You didn't do . . . much." To me. Yet.

He chuckled. "I didn't do much, huh? Guess I can live with that."

Haley noticed smoke rising from the pan beside him, and she pointed. "I think your pancake is burning."

"Huh? Shit!" Murdock spun around and flipped the pancake, already nearly black on one side. "Guess that one's mine."

"So, does that mean you accept my apology?"

"Of course. Not that it was really necessary. You want me to back off, all you gotta do is say so. Door slamming is optional." He gave her a rueful smile. "I'm kinda new to the whole dad thing, ya know."

"How about we just consider each other . . ." Haley stopped herself from saying 'friends'. "Acquaintances until we know the truth."

The smile fled his face, and Haley felt her own heart drop involuntarily at the hurt evident there. But she reminded herself that she wasn't sure she could trust him. Maybe the puppy dog look was just part of an elaborate act. She had trouble believing it, though – no matter what Jerry said.

He didn't look at her, but he did respond, his voice flat. "Whatever you want, Haley."

She waited a few beats for him to look back at her, but he concentrated on pouring pancake batter into the pan. She sighed and called over her shoulder, "Did you hear that, Mother?"

"I heard." Sydney's voice sounded from the dining room, where silence at the table indicated that everyone had been listening to the exchange in the kitchen. "We will have to work on your apology technique."

"Guess she thought I could do better." Haley pressed her lips together. "I'll get a lecture later, I suppose."

Murdock shrugged. "Not my area of expertise." He flipped the pancake, a slight smile returning to his face as it somersaulted in the air and landed square in the middle of the pan. "Look, I even gave this one a little nose. Want it?" He turned and smiled at her, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"No, this is enough."

As Murdock turned back to the stove, Haley shook her head. He seemed like such a nice, average guy. He might even make an OK dad, though he wasn't what she had pictured. He had the tall part of the equation, but weird and goofy hardly passed for dark and handsome. The truth was that none of that really mattered. She'd accept Goofy himself as her father if she knew she could trust him.

The real question, and the one that held her back, was:

Is HM one of the good guys or one of the bad guys?

* * *

Murdock and Hannibal headed to the airfield first, leaving the rest to load the van and follow. Hannibal reluctantly agreed to a quick stop at Murdock's apartment. They locked the company car they borrowed for the trip, and headed up to the second floor efficiency. As Murdock rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, he stopped and drew his weapon, motioning to the door of his apartment, standing slightly ajar.

Hannibal also drew his weapon, and the two men approached the door, flanking it. Hannibal pushed the door open and took in the visible area of the small living room in a glance. Someone had destroyed it, there were torn books and magazines littering the floor, along with the shredded cushions of the couch and chair. He nodded to Murdock, who led the way into the apartment. They cleared each room as they worked their way back to the bedroom.

Murdock holstered his gun and kicked his way back to the living room. His clothes had been destroyed, photos ripped from broken frames, shattered dishes covered the kitchen floor like shrapnel from a grenade. Nothing was left intact. "What the hell?" He stood in the middle of the mess and looked at Hannibal. "Searching a guy's place is one thing, but this is just . . . vicious."

Hannibal nodded, glanced around. "Is anything missing?"

"Who the hell could tell?" Murdock crouched and picked up a handful of what appeared to be confetti. "Hannibal, look at this. The other photos are just ripped in half, but this one was shredded." He held it out to Hannibal. "It was my photo of us at Ray's funeral."

"Get what you came here to get. I don't want to take any chances. We're too vulnerable with just the two of us."

Murdock nodded and hurried back to the bedroom. Hannibal walked into the kitchen, and found another photo of Face and Murdock, almost intact, attached to the wall with a steak knife through Murdock's forehead. Hannibal pulled the knife loose and smoothed out the photo, which was one he had taken several years before on one of the Team's retreats.  
He shoved the photo into his shirt pocket and glanced around before making his way back out of the kitchen. This was obviously an attack on Murdock and from the looks of it, it was very personal. The questions uppermost in Hannibal's mind were who and why?

Murdock re-emerged from the back of the apartment. He held out a wad of bills. "The motive definitely wasn't money. This was scattered all over the bottom of my closet. At least they didn't find this." He held a battered cigar box, held together by duct tape and bound shut with a large blue rubber band.

Hannibal doubted they would have given it much thought, even if they had found it. He had seen the box several times over the last few years, and each time it showed more wear than the last; but Murdock was always guarded about its contents. "What's in there?"

Murdock tucked the box into his jacket. "Everything that's important." He waved a dismissive hand at the rest of the apartment. "The rest is just for show."

The Colonel watched his pilot walk out of the apartment without a backward glance. It had been years since any of them had put down roots anywhere – always ready to pick up and move on a moment's notice. Murdock's instinctive desire to come to his apartment to retrieve what was important to him hadn't surprise Hannibal. They all knew what this trip could mean.

But the fact that the belongings most precious to the man fit into a cigar box struck Hannibal as ironic, and poignant. He knew Murdock had the right attitude – this was all just for show. It was the people in your life that were important. They all clung to that as a lifeline to a saner world than the one in which they lived. Someday their fortunes would change. And if Hannibal had any say in the matter, that someday would be very soon.

Out in the hall, he heard Murdock whistle a cheerful tune with a hard, almost angry edge to it that set Hannibal's feet in motion. He really wanted to know what the hell was going on. Right now, their enemy was an undefined ghost with a malicious agenda. They needed to define both the enemy and the agenda to develop a successful strategy for the battle. Only then could they end this feinting game and make some progress.

After all, a full frontal attack was much more his style.

* * * *


	2. Part 2: Retreat: Ch 9 thru 15

**Prologue to Chapter 9**

"What do you mean 'you let them go?'" If Ike could have wrapped his hands around Hunt Stockwell's neck at that moment, he would have.

"You were the one who wanted to use S.A. Wilson as bait, Isaac. As it was, Lewis's target was far too convenient. Now he'll have to work for her. The farther he has to go, the more of a trail he leaves behind himself. That is how we will get him. That is your goal, correct?"

"It's my fucking op, Stockwell. You should have consulted me, first."

"But I am the one who has control of your bait, Cheney. Like it or not, we are going to do this my way."

Ike slammed the phone down. He had to get back to the fucking drawing board - again.

**CHAPTER 9: Exploring the Past While Flying to the Future**

"You're on your own, Murdock." Able 8, handed a stack of paperwork to the pilot. "The General just paged me. I have another job that takes priority. I got the flight plans filed with Doc here, and the pre-flight is done, so you should be ready to go."

"You're going to fly the plane?" Haley had just walked into the hangar with Sydney. Excitement pitched her voice high, and it carried clearly to where BA was busy loading baggage into the hold.

"What?" BA glared at Murdock, then turned his angry stare on his commanding officer. "I told you, Hannibal. I ain't flyin' with that fool."

"Well, this should be fun," Murdock muttered. He took the papers from Able 8. "Thanks, Jeff."

But the man's focus was behind the pilot. "Is _that_ the amnesia lady?"

Murdock looked over his shoulder and felt the familiar tugging in his groin that accompanied any glimpse of Syd. He motioned to her and she approached the two men, Haley at her side.

"Hey, HM." Her smile was warm, and only served to quicken his heart rate. He focused on Haley, who wore a sour expression. That helped.

He indicated the Able Agent at his side. "Syd, Haley, I'd like you to meet Jeff Kent."

Jeff shot out a hand. "Sydney Wilson, it's nice to see you."

Syd shook his hand. "Have we met before?"

He absently shook Haley's hand. "Not formally. We were at Quantico at about the same time."

Sydney nodded. "I thought you looked familiar."

He smiled, the admiring gaze locked on Sydney made Murdock curious. Jeff jerked and pulled his pager off his belt. "The General. Again. I better get moving or my ass is grass. Sorry to stick you with this, Murdock."

"Not a problem." Murdock was just as glad he didn't need to worry about ditching the Able Agent.

As Jeff disappeared out the door, he turned to Syd. "He seemed to know you pretty well. You don't remember him?"

She shrugged. "I was the only woman at Quantico at the time, Captain. Everyone knew who _I_ was."

"I hadn't considered that."

Syd's gaze turned curious. "What's wrong with BA?"

Murdock turned the direction she was looking and laughed. BA lay prone on the floor of the hangar. Face and Hannibal were just stooping to get the big man up and into the aircraft.

"We could use a hand here, Murdock," Face grunted as he lifted one large arm.

Murdock chuckled. "Ah, the big ol' mudsucker's just fine, sweetheart. Trust me, it's better if he's out cold while we're in the air." He backed toward the entrance to the jet as he addressed Face. "Sorry, compadre. Maybe Frank can help. I gotta head up to the cockpit and get ready for take-off." He turned and jogged into the aircraft.

"Um, HM," Haley called after him. "Can I come with you?

"Up to your mother, Chiquita!"

Murdock heard Haley's plaintive: "Please?" Followed by Syd's resigned: "Go ahead." He smiled. He took Haley's enthusiasm about flying as a good sign.

Unlike BA - the last thing he heard before he closed the door to the cockpit was: "C'mon, Lieutenant, put your back into it."

* * *

Haley popped into the cockpit and Murdock glanced back. "About time my copilot showed up." He grinned at her, and Haley couldn't help but grin back. "Take a seat and buckle up. I'm just waiting for final clearance. Here." He handed her a pair of head phones. "Put these on."

She slipped the headphones on, and Murdock helped her adjust them so they fit correctly. A few seconds later a voice crackled in her ears. "Empress two, cleared for takeoff on runway four."

Murdock put a hand over his microphone. "Go ahead and respond 'Empress two, positioning for takeoff on runway four, clear.'"

Haley took a deep, nervous breath. "Empress two p-positioning for takeoff on runway four . . . uh, clear."

"Good." Murdock's smile lit up his whole face as he rolled the plane a few hundred feet to the end of a runway. Haley found herself looking at him in a different light as they prepared to head into the air.

"Is that HM's daughter I hear out there?" The jovial voice of the man on the radio made Haley jump. "You get to be half the pilot your dad is, and you'll have a job here, young lady."

Murdock grimaced. "I, uh, I couldn't resist bragging about you, ju-ust a little." He held his index finger and thumb an inch apart, and squinted at her. "I hope that's OK?"

Haley nodded, a thoughtful smile on her face. "Actually . . . it's kinda cool." She glanced at him shyly, then gritted her teeth. Her desire for a father seemed to trump her good sense at times.

He blew out a pent up breath. "That's a relief."

"But don't make a habit of it." Haley looked at him narrowly, hoping he got the message. It was when he started acting like her dad that she let herself get comfortable. That just couldn't be allowed. She was glad that at least her mother had backed off. Since their talk last night, she hadn't seen HM and Sydney even touch each other.

"I'll try, but no promises." Murdock shrugged. "Take comfort in the fact that I'd treat you this way even if we weren't related."

He stopped the plane at the end of a runway and flipped a switch on the console. "Good afternoon, lady and gentlemen, this is your Captain and Copilot." He smiled at Haley. "The seat belt sign is lit, and we will be taxiing for takeoff in just a few moments. Please place your seats in the upright and locked position and strap in for the ride."

He flipped the com back off and turned toward Haley, his excitement palpable in the small space. "Ready to get this lady in the air where she belongs?"

The anticipation of heading into the sky pushed all other thoughts from her mind as Haley nodded. Twin grins split their faces as they taxied down the runway. When the wheels left the ground, Murdock let out a howl, and Haley echoed it.

* * *

Face checked the straps holding BA upright in the seat one last time before taking a seat across from Sydney, next to the windows. "That should hold him."

Syd looked over Face's shoulder at the mountain of a man. "Is there a reason you're restraining him?"

"Just in case he wakes up before we're on the ground. Makes it easier to knock him out again, if we need to." Face sat back and grinned at her. "Beside, if you value Murdock's life, that's the way it has to be."

She shook her head. "I don't remember BA being afraid to fly. I mean, you guys flew in a chopper just about everywhere you went."

Hannibal took a seat next to Sydney. "He was never quite the same after that crash that landed us in the Hanoi Hilton. He hasn't really forgiven Murdock for that one."

"I thought it wasn't Murdock's fault."

"Hell, it wasn't anyone's fault. Murdock kept that bird in the air longer than any other pilot could have." Hannibal's ice-blue eyes sparkled with pride in his pilot. "But a crash is a crash, and that one was bad."

Face glanced back as BA snorted and shifted. "You sure you gave him enough, Hannibal?"

"He'll be fine."

Murdock's voice came over the speakers. "Good afternoon, lady and gentlemen, this is your Captain and Copilot. The seat belt sign is lit, and we will be taxiing for takeoff in just a few moments. Please place your seats in the upright and locked position and strap in for the ride."

A wistful smile curved Sydney's lips, and Face snorted. "God, you two need to do it, already."

Sydney's cheeks turned pink and she kicked Face in the shin.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"For being an ass."

Hannibal laughed. "Be that as it may, I have to say that I agree with Face."

Face didn't think it was possible, but her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink. She crossed her arms. "For being crude, then."

"Oh for Christ's sake, Syd. You two did it in a supply shed on a military base. If that isn't crude I don't know what is."

"Lieutenant, you are defining crude as we speak." Hannibal's tone offered a rebuke, but his grin neutralized it. Besides, Face was enjoying watching Syd squirm.

"What happened in that supply shed, aside from being absolutely none of your business, was anything but crude. HM was sweet."

"Sweet, huh? Based on the condition of the shed when you two left, it looked like it was pretty hot and heavy." Face gave her a devilish grin. "What I really want to know is: did he make your toes curl?"

"I'm not going to validate that question with an answer, Templeton."

*

Sydney turned pointedly away from the teasing Lieutenant and looked out the window as they rolled to a stop at the end of the runway. After Murdock was returned to active duty following the POW camp, she had stopped to see him at every possible opportunity. Sydney remembered their first - she smirked, make that _only_ successful encounter - vividly. Everything about it had been so Murdock. He might not have been the most adept lover, but what he lacked in technique, he made up for in enthusiasm. She recalled her own initial reluctance when he first opened the door to the supply shed, with a key Face had lifted for him . . .

_January 26, 1972_

"The supply shed?" Sydney looked into the crowded, shadowy recesses of the building that was little more than a shack on the edge of base.

HM grinned and took her hand, drawing her closer. "There's a cot in the back, where the supply sarge catches z's when the commander isn't watching." He leaned down and nibbled at her ear. "C'mon, sweetheart. Lewis'll ne'er find us here."

Sydney's breath quickened at the sound of his Texas drawl. She knew when he allowed his accent to thicken he was aroused. That knowledge and the feel of his lips erased the last of her inhibitions about the setting.

He traced a blazing path from her ear to her mouth, and she allowed herself to be maneuvered back into the shed. HM stepped away long enough to pull the door shut and lock it. Then he turned his attention back to her. His long arms encircled her and pulled her against him while his tongue probed her mouth eagerly. She could feel his penis straining against her and it stoked the coals of her own desire into a flame that licked along every nerve.

Bodies molded into one, they moved toward the rear of the nearly pitch-black shed. They made it several feet before they stumbled over something on the floor, and fell into a shelf, setting off an avalanche of shoes.

HM looked at Sydney. "Well, now, that was real slick." They both burst into laughter.

Sydney tried to look on the bright side. "At least it wasn't ammo, or something heavy."

"Small favors."

Eyes finally adjusted to the dark, HM took her hand and they picked their way through the pile of shoes, along a narrow aisle, to the rear of the shed. "Alrighty, I think the coast is clear back here. Your bed, ma-dam." He indicated the little cot with a flourish that set Sydney to giggling again. There was no way that little cot qualified as a bed. It was a scant 6 feet long, and she sized HM against it with a doubtful eye.

His eyes narrowed, though a lift to the corner of his generous mouth indicated his own amusement at the situation. "Are you laughing at me, or with me?"

"Does it matter?"

"Smart ass." He tipped his head and appraised her with a lustful gaze. "Actually, it's a very nice ass." He pulled her back into his arms and cupped her butt, his long fingers probing tantalizingly between her legs, obliterating all further cautionary thoughts from her mind. She tipped her head back, and he accepted the invitation, placing his hungry mouth at the hollow of her throat before venturing down her sternum.

With his other hand he fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, popping the first one off in his haste. "Oops."

Sydney chuckled and reached up to help him with the rest, letting her shirt slide to the floor, followed quickly by her bra. She found the bottom of his t-shirt and interrupted his fervent caresses long enough to pull it up over his head and deposit it on the floor with her clothing. She ran her hands up his chest, thrilling at stiff nipples she encountered on her way to tangle her hands in his hair. Their lips locked together, and for several long moments they reveled in the intimacy of the kiss, tongues probing, tasting, savoring.

HM pulled back, his breath ragged. "If Lewis shows up right now, I swear to God I'll shoot him."

Sydney knew the feeling. They hadn't quite gotten to this point the last time they were together, when Lew showed up and dragged her away. The frustration of that moment lent an urgency to this one. She pulled his head down and kissed him. "I don't want to talk about Lewis."

He managed to get her pants unhooked, and Sydney gasped as his hands slid along her hips, pushing both pants and panties down her legs, while he kissed his way down to her stomach. There he lingered, his tongue tracing teasing patterns below her belly button.

Having reached the floor with her clothing, his hands made a return journey up her legs, slowing as they neared her hips. His thumbs slid inward and teased her apart so he could flick her clit with his tongue. She groaned and he responded by closing his lips and sucking. Her entire body stiffened with the need for release.

She clutched his head and pushed him away, struggling for control. He stood, uncertain until she reached forward and tugged at his belt. She was desperate to have him inside of her. He undid his pants and discarded them in one fluid movement; then gathered her to him, their bodies pressed together as they moved toward the cot. HM loosened his hold enough to lower her to the cot, but it was in a space barely larger than it was, and not nearly long enough for his lanky form. When he lowered his body over hers, his foot collided with folded blankets, stacked at the foot of the cot, reaching nearly to the ceiling. They were buried in another avalanche, this time of army-green wool.

"Shit." HM pushed the blankets onto the floor and shifted, but even with extra room, couldn't seem to wedge himself into position.

Sydney lay spread-eagle on the cot, giggling uncontrollably. "Maybe we should forego the cot," she suggested.

He looked down at her and growled. "I'm sorry, sugar. I just can't seem to get this right."

Sydney smiled at him and slid herself onto the blankets, now covering the floor. "I beg to differ, my dear Captain."

She pulled him down onto her, his weight rekindling her desire quickly. She wrapped her legs around his as he slid into her. He shifted to plunge deeper, and her entire body shuddered. He withdrew and plunged into her again, and she clutched his firm butt, grinding her hips against his, her need for him obliterating all reason. She could feel him growing inside her, as they both approached the precipice. One more thrust, and the orgasm began to ripple through her body. She felt HM's simultaneous release as an echo of her own, turning the ripples of pleasure into crashing waves that left her breathless.

The jet began its forward roll, shaking Sydney from the daydream. She felt flushed, and the feeling intensified when the throbbing of the engines began pushing the aircraft down the runway. The landscape flashed by, faster and faster until the wheels left the ground, accompanied by an exultant howl from the front of the aircraft, a stirring echo from that long-ago night in the supply shed.

The jet took to the sky gracefully under the skilled hands of the pilot at her helm. Sydney smiled as she watched the earth recede below her. The thought of those hands on her body was enough to take her close to the edge of reason just sitting here. She sighed, and leaned her head against the cool window.

She'd never tell Face, but he was definitely right.

"Did you make the course adjustments we talked about, Captain?" Hannibal was bent over in the cockpit door.

"Yep. Doc took care of it for me. ETA 0900, local."

"Good. I'm having everyone flake out for the flight, so we're rested. I want us to be sharp en route from the air field to the ranch."

"I'll get you to Portland. After that, it's up to you guys. I'm just the pilot."

"You've never been 'just the pilot,' Murdock. I'll see you when we land." The door closed behind Hannibal.

"Portland? Oregon?" Haley looked at Murdock. "I thought we were going to California."

"That was just a decoy. As soon as Hannibal said we were headed to Crystal Lake for the relaxing atmosphere, we knew he had something up his sleeve. The last time we went there it was anything but relaxing."

"Where are we going?" Haley's voice was an octave higher then usual.

Murdock put a hand on her arm. "Hey, it's OK. We'll be safer where we're going, and this way the General will have a harder time tracking us down."

"_Where are we going?_"

"We own a ranch, or sorts, out near Breitenbush . . . well, kind of near Breitenbush." Murdock shrugged and smiled. "It's real pretty out there, and secluded. There's a mountain lake and –"

Haley felt her heart rate increase. "How secluded?"

"We have 50 acres situated in the Cascades. Breitenbush is . . . a close town, mmmm maybe not the closest – well really there's nothing much close. It's basically in the middle of nowhere, which is what we wanted. I think Face has it incorporated under some shell company, which makes it pretty much impossible to track back to any of us, individually. He's good at that sort of thing."

Haley turned away from him and looked out the window. She wondered if Jerry would be able to track them there. But what confused her was that she wasn't sure she wanted him to. It sounded frightening to be secluded with the bad guys; but it was equally as scary to be secluded with the good guys only to be found by the bad guys.

She sighed in frustration as she tucked her hands into the pocket of her hoodie and fingered the phone.

* * *

Face looked up as Hannibal returned to his seat. "All set?"

"Murdock says we'll get to Portland around 0900. Amy got Richter, right?"

"She arranged to pick him up and head to the ranch this morning. She should get there around dinner time."

"I sure am glad she's back from Jakarta," Hannibal said. "Never could figure out why she'd want to go there in the first place."

Face glanced away, afraid Hannibal would see the guilt in his eyes. He'd been surprised when Amy answered the phone yesterday and actually spoke to him. Though she called and spoke to Murdock frequently, she had been stubbornly silent to him.

He raised his eyes to find Sydney gazing at him, a smirk on her face. "Woman trouble, Face?"

Face gritted his teeth. Syd was irritatingly good at reading him. It had fascinated him when they first met, but had quickly become a source of irritation for the conman in him. He was supposed to be able to fool everyone. "No trouble . . . except maybe you."

"All you had to say was you didn't want to talk about it." Sydney pouted, but her blue eyes held a teasing glint. "Besides, _I_ was never _your_ problem."

"The hell you weren't." Face straightened. "Murdock's woman troubles ended up being the whole Team's troubles."

"You are full of it."

Face turned to face Sydney. "Oh, yeah? Let's take the night in the supply shed, as a case in point." Face noted Sydney's blush as he ticked off points on his fingers. "I had to make the arrangements to have the sergeant out of commission for the night; I had to lift the key; then I helped Ray coordinate the diversions so the two of you wouldn't be interrupted, which was a hell of a trick since Lew chose that night to have insomnia. Then the next day, not only did I have to clean up the mess you left in the shed, but I had Murdock pestering me to find him an engagement ring – in the middle of freaking Vietnam, he expects me to come up with a diamond ring."

Sydney's eyes went wide, and Face recognized his mistake.

"Excuse me." She choked, stumbling between the seats and hurrying back to the restroom.

"What's wrong with her?" Frankie asked.

"Good going, Face." Hannibal said.

"I didn't even think about it. Shit."

"She didn't know Murdock was going to propose?" Frankie looked at Face in alarm.

"How could she have known? They didn't see each other after that night." Hannibal motioned to the bathroom. "You better go talk to her, Face."

"_You_ should go talk to her." Face looked at Hannibal in desperation. "She looks up to you like a . . . a father figure."

"Well one of you needs to go talk to her," Frankie said.

"Ray was her father figure, not me. Get your ass over there and talk to her, Lieutenant. It's not a request."

Face sighed as he stood up. "What do I say?"

"Honestly, she needs a good cry," Hannibal said. "Her indifference up until now has concerned me. I also think it's a good idea for her be aware of what we do and do not know about what happened to Murdock at the end of the war."

"That's an awful tall order, Hannibal. Why don't I just give her a blow by blow of the first couple years _after_ the war. Murdock was a fucking mess. You think she needs to know all of that?"

"A blow by blow is probably overkill. I'd keep it to the bare necessities for now."

Hannibal's matter-of-fact tone was beginning to piss Face off. "Why don't you go talk to her, then?"

"I was always the commanding officer that she and Murdock avoided. She'll be more likely to open up and talk with you than with me."

"Fine, but I still don't have a clue what to say."

"You'll think of something, Lieutenant. I have faith in you." Hannibal gave Face an encouraging smile.

Face scowled in response, but did head back to the bathroom.

He knocked on the door. "Uh, Syd, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." The strangled sound of her voice belied the words.

"Syd, I'm sorry." Face leaned his head against the door. "I should think before I open my mouth."

The door opened and Face stepped back. Sydney leaned in the doorway, nose pink, eyes red-rimmed. At least for the moment she appeared to be in marginal control of her emotions. "He honestly wanted you to get him an engagement ring?"

"He was head over heels in love with you, even before that night." Face smiled, remembering Murdock's insistence. "It was all I could do to hold him off until then."

She closed her eyes, her struggle for control allowing only a single tear to slip down her cheek. "He was always so damned impulsive."

"Isn't that part of his charm?"

Syd opened her eyes and swiped at her cheek. "Yes. That and his insistent optimism."

Face pursed his lips. "Only when you were around, Syd. You were the only thing that made the end of the war tolerable for Murdock." Face took a deep breath, knowing this was going to be hard for Sydney to hear. "When he lost you, or _thought_ he lost you . . . that was when he lost himself. It was a couple years after the war before we even considered taking him out of the VA. He was just too unstable."

Syd's face crumpled, and he pulled her into a brotherly embrace as sobs racked her petite frame.

He held her until the tears subsided, and she pulled away with a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"I'm no shrink, but even I know you need a release, Syd. No one can ride an emotional rollercoaster like you've ridden in the last 24 hours and not let loose. You keep telling Murdock and Haley to give each other a break. How about doing the same for yourself?"

She leaned into the bathroom and grabbed tissues. "You're right." She dried her face and blew her nose. "It probably doesn't help that I didn't sleep much last night."

"I'm sure that's it." Face gave her a doubtful look.

Sydney smiled. "I'm kind of a mess, huh?"

Face shrugged. "Considering the circumstances, I think you're pretty amazing."

She laughed. "Amazingly thick, at any rate." She looked up at Face, her head tilted to the side. "I do have one question, just out of curiosity."

"Shoot," Face said.

"Did you get him the ring?"

He grinned. "What do you think?"

"How did you and Mom meet?"

Murdock leaned back and considered the girl next to him. Her distress at their change in destination seemed to have abated, and she had taken to quizzing him relentlessly about his past. She insisted on details about his indoctrination into the Team, and what they did during the war. Now she was moving onto his relationship with Sydney. He had anticipated the questions about that topic, but it didn't make the answers any easier. His introduction to and courtship of her mother was anything but traditional.

"Well, that depends. Do you mean when I met her as Sydney Wilson of Chicago, or when I met her as Sheila Downey of Dallas?"

"Oh, yeah. Mom was investigating you for drug running, right?" Haley met his gaze with narrowed eyes. "So, did you do it?'

Murdock opened his mouth and closed it without making a sound. "When I met your mother I was not running drugs."

"And before you met her?"

"Not right before."

"Are you a habitual liar?"

Murdock eyes widened in innocence. "I have not spoken one untrue word to you since I've known you."

"A whole . . ." Haley looked at her watch. "16 hours of honesty. Is that a record for you?"

He clutched at his heart. "You wound me to the quick, me lady."

"Did anyone ever tell you you're weird?"

"Never."

"_That's_ a lie."

"No-o-o-o." Murdock grinned at her, enjoying the word game. "That was sarcasm."

Haley shook her head and crossed her arms. "You aren't going to puke out on the honesty pact, are you?"

"I didn't think it applied to me anymore, since you aren't sure I'm part of the family." Murdock turned questioning eyes on her.

"Regardless, you promised." Haley gazed at him unblinking.

"I did." He returned the look, marveling at how grown-up she sounded. "The honesty pact stands."

Haley nodded in acceptance. "Alright, so when did you meet Mom as Sydney Wilson?"

"You know, I think it's my turn to ask you a question."

"Fine."

"Let's see. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I've only been in McLean for a couple weeks."

"That isn't an answer." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"I am very glad to hear that."

Haley gave him a severe look, and he raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry. I can't seem to help myself."

"My turn. When did you meet Mom as Sydney Wilson?"

Murdock chuckled. "Actually, Face found out who she wasn't. So we took her out and . . ." He glanced at Haley, as awareness dawned that Sydney might not appreciate him sharing this particular story with her 14-year-old daughter. "Um, we, hmmm . . ."

"You got her drunk."

Murdock looked at her narrowly. "How did you know that?"

"I'm 14 – not stupid."

"No, definitely not." Murdock marveled at how observant and sharp she was for a young teenager. He wondered if that was typical.

"OK, then when did you start dating her?"

Murdock shook his head. There were no straightforward answers to questions like that. Not when it came to him and Sydney. "Are we talking actual, mutual dating, or me fawning after her like a lovesick puppy? There's a difference. She was pretty stubborn about the whole thing."

*

Haley's eyes went wide with surprise. "Mom didn't want to date you?" Maybe Jerry was right.

"It's complicated, Haley." He sighed, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Syd and I were friends – really good friends. But I wanted something more. Unfortunately, there was this rule about military and support groups fraternizing. A lot of guys didn't pay any attention to it, and the officers usually looked the other way, but that was generally with nurses. Your mom was an intelligence agent, which was really taboo, not to mention unusual, and I was an officer. She said I should set an example. She reminded me of it frequently, in fact."

"Yeah, she's good at rules." Haley looked up at him. "So what made her change her mind?"

Murdock stared out the window, silent long enough that Haley thought he wasn't going to answer. When he finally turned to her, his eyes – which usually sparkled with mischief and were definitely one of his best features – were flat and empty. The gaze sent a shiver of apprehension up her spine as she strained to hear his response. "Things changed after the POW camp."

"The what?"

He seemed uncomfortable meeting her gaze. "We spent a few weeks as guests at the Hanoi Hilton."

"A hotel?" The smirk on his face intensified Haley's feeling of dread rather than alleviating it.

"No, sweetheart. We were guests of the North Vietnamese Army. The Hanoi Hilton was a prisoner of war camp. No amenities." He shook his head, and when he turned back to her, his gaze was intense. "I can't talk about it, Haley, especially with you. Suffice it to say, I was pretty messed up after the camp. Syd helped me deal."

Haley's curiosity wouldn't allow her to let the topic go. "So, after . . . the camp, how did she help?"

"Syd was the only person I would communicate with at first." He grunted in humorless amusement. "Lew wasn't thrilled about it, but Morrison made him back off. The base shrink told Hannibal that if he didn't want me discharged on a Section 8, they better make time for me to spend with Sydney, so that's what happened; whether Lewis, and Hannibal liked it or not."

"Lewis." Haley dug through the disjointed conversations that she had overheard over the last day. "He was . . . Mom's partner, right? You didn't like him, did you?"

Murdock shrugged. "Lew was OK, I guess. Maybe I was just jealous of the fact that he got to spend more time with your mom than I did. I seriously considered transferring back to the CIA."

"You worked for the CIA?"

His jaw clenched, and Haley got the impression that he was sorry he had mentioned it. His response was sufficiently vague to peak her curiosity. "Once or twice."

The revelations kept getting further and further from the fantasy she had in her mind, though she had to admit, Murdock was actually way more interesting than she had first thought.

He grinned at her, his eyes regaining some of their usual sparkle. "Now it's my turn."

Haley groaned. "Fine, but only one question."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"Like Mom says: life isn't always fair." Murdock laughed, and Haley decided maybe she was wrong about him not being handsome. She hoped Jerry was wrong about him, too.

After all, people weren't always what they seemed.

**Prologue to Chapter 10**

Lewis had been sitting here for several hours, his irritation mounting. Dr. Ricther had not been home when he arrived in L.A. early this morning. He waited until the receptionist arrived, then headed to the nearest telephone booth and dialed. The receptionist answered on the first ring, out of breath. "Dr. Allen Ricther's office. This is Jean. How can I help you?"

"Hello. This is Ron Gunn. I have an appointment with Dr. Richter this afternoon, but I was hoping to talk to him, as I won't be able to make it." Ron Gunn was the first appointment this afternoon in Richter's appointment book. In fact, Richter's schedule had been full today. So where was the good doctor?

"I'm sorry, sir. In fact, I was going to call you to cancel your appointment today. Dr. Richter took an unexpected trip out of town, and won't be returning for a few days.

"But I have to talk to him – now!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's impossible. If you would like, you can call Dr. Saunders, who will be handling any emergencies while Dr. Richter is away."

"No! I must speak to Dr. Richter. Can you tell me where he's gone?"

"No, sir, I can't. I really don't know."

Lewis took a deep breath. "Fine, have Dr. Saunders call me." He hung up the phone without waiting for a reply.

Lewis dropped into his rental car and pounded a fist on the steering wheel. Haley said they were headed for Crystal Lake, near LA. They had to be in the area somewhere.

**CHAPTER 10: Breathless in Breitenbush**

"You guys are dead." BA glowered at no one in particular. He had awakened just as they made the last turn off the county road onto a nearly invisible, rough-cut drive that led to the main house on the Team's ranch in Oregon.

"Oh, lighten up, BA," Murdock said from the back seat, where he sat with Frankie and Haley. "In spite of your lack of faith in me, I managed to fly us all the way across the country without crashing even once."

"You're lucky, fool. If we'd have crashed I woulda had to kill you."

"If I had a dime for every time you threatened to kill me, I'd be a rich man, BA."

"If you'd learn how to fly a plane, mebe I wouldn't have to threaten you."

"If you'd get over your acrophobia, we wouldn't have to knock you out every time we have to head in to the great blue yonder, ya big, mudsucking baby!"

Face heaved an exaggerated sigh, "Isn't that your cue, Hannibal?"

"Cool it you two."

The house came into view over the next rise, just as the woods they were driving through gave way to a rocky landscape. Sydney sat up. The house was a huge, two-story shingle-style home sitting on a mid-slope outcrop. An enclosed front deck spanned the front, and adjoined varying levels of open decks circling the sides of the house. Two towers peaked above the front gable, and Sydney could see upper-level decks as well. Everything was designed to allow optimum viewing of the gorgeous mountain setting, at least down-slope. Behind the house, a cliff rose above then angled away to a peak close to a hundred feet higher than the roof of the house. "How many bedrooms?"

"Enough so we can each have our own space." Hannibal grinned. "Except the bickering brothers. They get to bunk together as punishment."

Murdock mocked BA's responding growl.

Hannibal clapped his hands together as Face brought the van to a stop. "Let's get everything unloaded and settle in. We'll skip lunch and plan on an early dinner."

Sydney put the last of her clothes away in the bedroom she had selected. It was adjoined to Haley's in a mini-suite via the bathroom/dressing room. Located on the north side of the house, it had a large picture window with a spectacular view of the mountain lake located just half a mile down-slope from the house. Woods surrounded the rocky outcrop that house and lake shared, surrounding them like a natural fence. She couldn't imagine ever wanting to leave this place. It was like a slice of heaven on earth.

Haley lounged in the doorway to the bathroom. "I think you just suffer from Florence Nightingale syndrome. You fell for HM because he was sick, and you nursed him back to health."

"Where in the hell do you get these ideas?" Sydney sighed. "I do not suffer from Florence Nightingale syndrome. Honestly, Haley. You truly are reading far too much Harlequin. Why can't you just accept the fact that I fell in love with him?"

"HM said you were just friends until he came back from the POW camp."

Sydney turned troubled eyes on her daughter. "He talked to you about the POW camp?"

"Kind of . . . well, not really. He just told me they were there. He said you helped him recover afterward. Though I don't know what from." Haley pursed her lips in thought. "Was he hurt like you were hurt?"

Sydney considered the question, weighing how to respond. As Haley got older, Dr. Asher had encouraged her to be open with her daughter when she asked questions about what had happened to her, so she always tried to answer with the truth as she knew it. Subsequently, over time, Haley had developed a fairly clear understanding of the injuries she sustained at the end of the war. Perhaps that would be a good place to start with the explanation.

"Sort of. You see, Haley, what happened to me was a one time event, perhaps more intense, but only for a short time. HM and the rest of the Team endured it for weeks, repeatedly. Do you remember when we did the research on torture techniques, when you were doing that paper on Vietnam?"

Haley nodded.

"Well, imagine being subjected to that for several weeks in a row, day after day, with no medical attention in between, and precious little food to sustain you. And remember, there are mental as well as physical aspects to torture. They lived with that for weeks."

"How did they get away?"

Sydney shrugged. "Hannibal _earned_ his nickname, sweetheart. In the end, the escape was probably the easy part. Even more amazing was that the entire unit made it back to base alive."

"But why would your feelings for HM change when they got back if it wasn't Florence Nightingale syndrome?"

"My feelings didn't change."

"But HM said you wouldn't date him until after –"

"Yes, that's true. But what changed was my own resolve about not taking our relationship any further than friendship. I kept telling myself that I was too young for a serious relationship. But I think what I was really afraid of was getting too . . . attached. I didn't want to deal with the emotional ramifications if he was killed – which was a likelihood every time he took off."

Sydney took a deep breath. "His time at the POW camp made me realize how foolish that rationale was. I was already attached. I could tell myself and everyone around me that we were just friends, but I realized that it didn't matter. Once my brain accepted the inevitable, it seemed silly to avoid any deeper attachment. If I was honest with myself, I was already in love with him."

Haley slouched in the doorway. "You're certain there was nobody else? Someone that maybe you don't remember?"

"No one." Sydney walked over and stood in front of her daughter. "Why?"

Haley shrugged. "I just want to know if he _is_ my father."

Sydney sighed. "My heart tells me he is, but –" She stopped, unsure if this was the right time.

"But, what?"

Sydney took her daughter's hands and drew her to the bed to sit. "Haley, I truly think that HM is your father, but I think you should know that he wasn't the only man I had intercourse with in that time frame."

Haley's eyes widened. "What are you saying?"

"I read my early file last night. Dr. Asher never told me, but the medical records from Laos indicate that I . . . had been raped."

"Oh my God. Raped? You mean my father might have been a rapist?"

"I really doubt it, honey, but it's possible."

Murdock cleared his throat, and Haley and Sydney both looked up at him. "Are you two settled in?"

Haley looked at her mother and, for the second time since she had met Murdock, asked, "Does he know?"

"I do now," Murdock said. "Does it really matter?"

A relieved smile appeared on Sydney's face. "No, it doesn't."

Haley shot off the bed. "Of course it matters. He might not be my father." She pointed at Murdock, her tone accusing. "Even worse, my father might be some scumbag rapist? It matters a lot!"

Murdock moved into the room. "Why is it so important to you, Haley? I'd gladly take the title. All you have to do is say the word."

"Don't you understand? I've wondered who I am all my life. I want to _know_ who my father is."

"You may not like what you find out," Sydney said quietly.

"I would at least like to know whether HM is my father or not. Isn't there some test or something they can do to figure that out?"

Murdock crossed his arms. "We could have a paternity test run."

"Just like that?" Haley's gaze was distrustful.

"It's a reasonable request. I'll talk to Hannibal. I'm sure Maggie Sullivan would take the necessary samples and run the test if asked." Murdock tilted his head. "I'm still not sure I understand why it's so important to you, but if it is, then it's important to me, too."

Haley hesitated, but her face cleared. "Thanks, HM. Really." She turned abruptly and disappeared through the adjoining bathroom/dressing room. She glanced back at them briefly, before closing the door, effectively ending the discussion.

Sydney stood and moved to his side. "What if you aren't her father, HM?"

"I guess we'll cross that bridge if we come to it." He flashed her a teasing smile. "Besides, I figure my chances are pretty good. I had a lot of little soldiers swimming for me after that night in the supply shed."

"That you did." Sydney smiled, and their eyes locked and held for several long seconds. Murdock was the one who broke the contact, glancing uncertainly at Haley's closed door. "I should . . . go." He leaned down and gave her a light kiss, before striding out the door.

Sydney drew a deep, frustrated breath. She picked up a book she had found on the book shelf, and headed out to the deck to see if she could lose herself in the story and the scenery.

Murdock put another load of wood into the rack and hung his jacket up on one of the hooks by the door. The vigorous exercise of chopping wood had helped abate his frustrations somewhat. "That should hold us for tonight, Colonel. I don't think we'll need it today. It's warming up out there."

"Great, Murdock." Hannibal stowed the last of the groceries into the pantry. "Haley came down while you were out chopping wood, and I sent her down to the lake with Face and Frankie. If we're lucky they'll catch enough fish for dinner."

"Sounds good."

"And I reached Maggie. She's coming out tonight, after she closes up shop. She said the paternity testing was no problem, but that it could take up to six weeks to get the results."

Murdock nodded. "Hopefully Haley can be patient."

"I think that's highly unlikely, but it's the best we can do."

Hannibal unlocked the gun cabinet and pulled out two weapons. "I'm gonna grab BA and do a thorough recon of our perimeter to check our defenses. That leaves you and Syd to hold down the fort, here, and maybe get a start on dinner. The rest of us will probably be gone for a couple hours, anyway." Hannibal gave him a broad wink, and then disappeared out the kitchen door.

Murdock stared after his commanding officer in consternation and debated whether he should do as Hannibal inferred. He was worried about how Haley would react, but he knew Hannibal's over-riding concern was Murdock's own lack of focus.

He considered going out to get more wood, but the wood rack was already full. He checked the kitchen to see if anything remained to be put away, and thought about starting dinner, but a glance at the clock told him it was far too early for that. He roamed the other rooms on the main floor, seeking an adequate distraction, but his feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and his meandering eventually carried him upstairs. He froze in the doorway to Sydney's room as she walked out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam wearing nothing but a towel. His involuntary reaction was immediate.

She noticed him standing in the doorway. "Hey. It's awful quiet in here. Where is everyone?"

It took a few moments for her words to filter through the thunder of the blood rushing through his veins. "Uh, Hannibal and BA are doing a perimeter check; and Frankie and Face took Haley down to the lake to go fishing."

Sydney's smile was a seductive invitation. "So what you're telling me is that we have the whole house to ourselves." Her words shot through him like an electric shock that short-circuited his entire body. All he could do was nod.

She walked to him and took his hand to draw him into the bedroom, then closed the door. She faced him, only inches away, and let her towel slip to the floor. Her blue eyes seemed impossibly large in a square face softened by honey-colored hair that cascaded over her shoulders, just brushing the swell of her breasts. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

"HM?" Sydney's voice seemed to come from far away. He shook his head.

"It –" He swallowed, trying to un-stick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "It just seems a shame to end the anticipation."

Her responding smile was sympathetic. She stood on her tip toes, hands on his shoulders for support, and placed a feather-light kiss on his lips. "I know exactly how you feel." Her murmur had a breathless quality that intensified his desire. "But I think it's time to indulge."

Time seemed to suspend as he stared into her eyes, their breath mingling. He lifted his hands to her waist, sliding one around to the small of her back, and the other up to cradle her head, savoring the silky warm smoothness of her skin and blow-dried hair as he pulled her to him and claimed her lips in a ravenous kiss. Their tongues played a game of feint and parry, exploring deeply and thoroughly.

He ventured from her mouth, to drop kisses along her jaw, and down her neck, until he reached the smooth sweetness of her breast, the taste and smell of her, familiar and yet new, was arousing all of his senses. He dipped lower and used his tongue to trace reducing circles on her firm breast until he reached her nipple, clenching it gently between his teeth and running his tongue over the tip, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from Sydney.

She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled away, causing him to look up at her curiously. Her lips were parted in a breathless smile. "I need to slow down, and you need to catch up."

He felt her fingers graze the skin of his stomach as she curled them under the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head, discarding it with her towel on the floor. She also made short work of his khakis and underwear. Once all obstacles had been removed, he wrapped his arms around her, molding their bodies together. They clung to one another in an attempt to satisfy a mutual and overwhelming desire to be close. They moved in a slow dance to the bed, where Murdock had no choice but to let her go, but only briefly.

She lay down on the bed, and pulled him down after her. He lowered himself between her legs, aiming high to allow the length of his throbbing penis to slide along her sensitive crevice. Her moan of pleasure was almost too much, and he had to stop and take a calming breath to regain some semblance of control. Then he lowered his lips to one erect nipple, again teasing the tip with his tongue, while he rubbed the other between his fingers. She arched her back, grinding her pelvis against him. Her writhing eroded what little control he had left.

He drew back, and plunged into her warm, moist depths. His need exploded, as he drew back and plunged again, and again, until she clutched at him, her legs widening as she pulled him deep inside of her, shuddering with her own release. Her fingers slid up his back, pulling him down to remove all space between them – their bodies becoming one. With each pulse of his orgasm, he felt a responding pulse from Sydney's body, amplifying his pleasure with her own.

As the orgasm ebbed, they relaxed in one another's arms, sated – at least for the moment. For several minutes they lay locked together while their respiration returned to normal.

Murdock propped himself up on an elbow. "Wow."

A languid smile curved her lips. "I'll second that."

She pulled him back down and their lips met in an undemanding kiss. Murdock buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing in the heady musk of their love-making mingled with the lavender scent of her hair. He flicked his tongue out, tasting the saltiness of the sweat on her smooth skin. He felt his need growing again.

Her throaty chuckle prompted him to lift his head and look into her sparkling blue eyes. "Ready for an encore already?"

He smiled and quirked an eyebrow. "I'm up for several curtain calls, sugar."

Sydney searched his face, her gaze half-teasing, half-serious. "Is that a promise, Captain?" The timbre of her voice accelerated Murdock's heart.

"Absolutely."

And the first encore began.

"I don't think I've ever been this relaxed." Murdock lay stretched out on his back his arm wrapped around Sydney, their legs intertwined.

Sydney fingered the coarse hair on his chest. "Never?" She leaned up and looked at him.

"Did you know you are gorgeous?"

Sydney chuckled, and swung a leg over him to sit up, straddling his hips. "So, does that mean you're up for one more round?" She slid herself up and down slowly, eliciting the desired response.

"You're gonna wear me out, sugar."

"I'm in my sexual prime, Captain. You _are_ going to be able to keep up, aren't you?" She cocked a teasing eyebrow.

"I'll do my best." He reached his hands around to cup her butt, amazed that he was already erect given the continuous exercise of the last hour or so.

Sydney's attention had been diverted. "Damn." Her tone quickly killed the mood as she rolled off of him and stood, gazing out the window.

"What is it?" Murdock propped himself up on an elbow so he could see what was prompting the sudden change in mood. Coming up the path from the lake were Face, Frankie and Haley.

He glanced at the clock as he swung his long legs out of bed. "Shit, it's almost 3. Guess we've been at this longer than I thought."

Sydney heaved a sigh and turned to consider him. "I suppose I'll just have to wait."

He stood. "We don't even have time for a shower."

"I kind of need a shower." Syd turned and headed into the bathroom.

He picked up his underwear and followed. "We are agreed that we're going to wait to tell Haley about us?"

"For now, yes. But not for long. I think we should sit down with her tonight. Maybe after Maggie gets here, and Haley gets her way with something. Hopefully she'll be more accepting then."

Murdock stood in the bathroom door and stepped into his underwear as Sydney turned on the water. "I wish I could join you."

Sydney turned the water back off immediately. "Actually, I think I'll forego the shower for now. I think Haley may have heard me get one earlier and it could make her suspicious."

"Go ahead and get one, Sugar. I'll distract them for a few minutes."

"You know, I always used to hate it when you called me 'sugar.'"

"You did? But it's a term of endearment!"

Sydney smiled at him. "I know, I just thought it was condescending. I don't mind it anymore . . . in fact I kind of like it. You get a little of your Texas twang back when you say it."

He moved into the bathroom, and gave her a light kiss, then leaned his forehead against hers. "This feels so right."

"That's because it is. We just need to give Haley some time to come to that conclusion."

They heard voices coming up the walk. "Damn, I better get down there." Murdock moved away reluctantly.

"Yeah, I think it may look a little suspicious, both of us coming down at the same time."

Murdock pulled on his pants, buttoning them hastily. He grabbed his t-shirt and blew a kiss to Sydney as he ran out the door.

"Murdock, we caught 'em – you get to clean 'em!" Face called.

Murdock ran down the stairs, pulling his t-shirt over his head, realizing that he had tarried just a little too long to beat the fishing trio to the kitchen.

He rounded the bottom of the stairs and nearly collided with Face, holding out a stringer full of fish.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Face thrust the fish at him. "Didn't you start dinner, yet?"

Murdock accepted the stringer. "Uh, no, I was just . . . about to do that."

"What the hell have you been doing for the last two and a half hours?"

Haley walked into view, trailed closely by Frankie. "Face, don't," he said under his breath.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot, you had to chop wood. Probably needed a shower after that, huh?" Face had his back to Haley, and gave Murdock a wink.

"Yeah." Murdock sighed in relief. "I think we can find some veggies to go with the fish."

Sydney came down the stairs, and stopped between Face and Murdock. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Why don't you get some potatoes and green beans started while I go out to the shed and clean the fish." Murdock was relieved to be able to stand next to Sydney without developing an immediate hard-on.

Sydney nodded and flashed him a contented smile. He felt his own lips turn up in response.

"Oh my God!" Haley put her hands on her hips, her expression furious.

Everyone turned toward the young woman.

"What's wrong?" Syd asked.

"Do I look stupid?" Haley seethed. "I _thought_ you were going to wait!"

*

Syd glanced at HM, and his eyes begged, 'How did she know?'

She shrugged and brushed between him and Face to stop in front of her daughter. "Why don't you come into the kitchen and help me get the vegetables ready? We can talk." She suggested calmly.

"Talk! It's a little late for that. How could you do this to me?" Haley's anger surprised Sydney.

"Haley, no one's done anything to you," HM sounded bewildered.

Haley aimed her glare over Sydney's shoulder. "And you, I thought you and I understood each other. I thought we _all_ understood each other."

Sydney took her hand. "Haley, you're over-reacting."

But Haley jerked away. "You two can't keep your hands off each other for even one day and I'm over-reacting?"

"Haley Marie, that's enough!" Sydney could hear her heart hammering in her ears.

"You're right, it is." Haley turned and slammed out of the house.

Sydney stared after her for a moment then crossed her arms and turned back toward HM. "So much for waiting until tonight."

He ran his hands back through his hair in agitation. "How did she know?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Frankie snorted. "C'mon, Murdock. Everything about your body language says you two are comfortable with each other. The change is like night and day. If _I_ can see it, then anybody can."

"I didn't think she would react this badly." Sydney shook her head. "I better go talk to her."

Face put a restraining hand on Syd's arm. "Let me go talk to her. Maybe I can reason with her. She's too angry with you and Murdock, right now."

Sydney sighed as Face jogged out the door after her daughter. In five minutes Haley had managed to wipe out the afterglow of the past couple hours with HM. She glanced at him. He looked entirely overwhelmed.

She knew how he felt.

Face caught up to Haley back down by the lake, and sat down next to her on the rough-hewn bench near the dock. "Hey."

"I don't want to talk."

Face nodded. "So, I'll talk."

"I don't want a lecture, either."

"No lecture. I promise."

"Fine."

Face rested his elbows on his knees and gazed out at the lake. "Your mom is a pretty amazing person."

Haley glanced at him and shifted. "Yeah, she is." Her tone held a grudging respect.

Face nodded. "I know you don't know your dad that well –"

"We don't know that he _is_ my dad."

Face took a deep breath; there was no doubt in his mind. "Fine. I know you don't know _Murdock_ that well, but I've known him for a long time, and he is one of the most incredibly talented and caring people I've ever met."

"Yeah, they're both great people –"

"You said you didn't want to talk." Face raised his eyebrows, and Haley lapsed into a sullen silence.

"Can I continue?"  
She nodded.

"Anyway, about your mom and Murdock; I thought it was remarkable when they found each other the first time, especially given the circumstances. The fact that they found each other again borders on a miracle. Don't you think that's a sign?"

Haley snorted. "You mean like fate or something?"

"You don't believe in fate?"

"You really think they were predestined to be together? And Mom says I romanticize." Haley rolled her eyes at him.

Face chuckled. "Yeah, maybe that's a little sentimental. But you have to admit, it's pretty weird that they walked into the same grocery store yesterday, at almost the same time."

Haley gave a slight shake. "Yes, that was weird. Mom acted strange from the minute we walked through the door. Like she could tell HM was in there . . ."

"I know you're having trouble accepting their relationship, Haley – it's new to you, and it's all happening fast. But it took them months to get together during the war, and now they've been on hold, through no fault of their own, for 15 years. You're young, but surely you can understand how hard it must be for them to . . . uh . . ."

"Keep their hands off each other?"

"Well, I was going to say 'abstain' but you get the drift."

He could see the wheels turning in Haley's head. She finally broke the silence. "So Mom and HM are meant to be together. Where does that leave me?"

Face's eyes went wide. "Right where you should have been all this time, Haley – with a Mom _and Dad_ who both love you."

"If he is my dad."

Face heaved an exasperated sigh. Teenagers could be very thick. "Haley, Murdock could care less about the biology of your conception. You're Syd's daughter. That's enough for him."

Haley stood up and crossed her arms, gazing out across the lake. "Maybe for him. I'm tired of being uncertain about my past. I thought when Mom remembered everything that all of my questions would be answered. Instead, it's just creating more questions . . . and problems."

Face couldn't think of a response to that before Haley turned to him and spoke again. "Thanks for the talk, Face. I just really think they should have respected my feelings and waited. It wasn't too much to ask."

She turned and walked away, headed back toward the house. Face didn't bother to follow. Teenage girls obviously didn't think the way he did. He had to admit, his perspective was quite a bit different from Haley's. He would have been ecstatic to have one parent, let alone two. Maybe Syd could make some progress with her now that she was calmed down. He satisfied himself with the thought that he had at least laid the groundwork for that discussion. Maybe?

He sat back and considered where they were, and where they were headed. Haley was frustrated, yes, but it seemed so minor given what Sydney was dealing with. He wondered what had happened to make Murdock think Syd was dead? It struck him again, the impossible odds she had beat to survive and find Murdock again. No matter what Haley believed or didn't believe, Face was convinced it was Devine intervention that had brought them to this point. Sydney and Murdock were soul mates, swirling around in the chaos of the universe with an invisible bond that might stretch tight, but never broke, bringing them back together again, and again. Truth be told, he had always been jealous of what they had, even before it developed into something more than the friendship that they had all shared.

Then there was Richter. He might be the best hope for helping Syd, but Face was wary of the Doctor's allegiances. He knew Hannibal was, too. By bringing Richter out here, Hannibal hoped to maintain control of the situation, regardless of Richter's loyalties. But Face couldn't help but think that physical control of the situation was an illusion of any kind of true control. He prayed that Devine intervention continued to act in their favor.

Because when it came to mind games, the Doctor definitely had the upper hand.

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 11**

Lewis slid his identification card through the slot, and heard the telltale click signaling he could enter the secured area. The buxom woman behind the desk looked up at him and smiled. "Hello, Lew. It's been awhile since you've visited our neck of the woods. What can we do for you?"

"I need an Echelon uplink." Lewis said.

"Case number?"

"Sorry, Rochelle, you don't have the security clearance for that info. I'll log it under my personal ID. If the higher-ups have an issue, I'll talk to them about it."

Rochelle shrugged. "You're the boss." She pushed a button and the connecting door slid open.

Lewis walked down a long, non-descript hall. At the end he slid his ID through another slot, and went through another unmarked door, entering the hub of a suite of small offices, each with an array of electronic equipment. All rooms were currently empty. He slipped his card through another slot, and typed his ID and password into the attached keypad. The door clicked open, and he stepped inside and closed the door.

After arranging the shades on the windows so no one could look in, he sat down in front of a small computer. As his fingers tapped across the keyboard with practiced ease, he recalled when the first Vax unit was commissioned. He hadn't been alone in seeing the power that would come from the looming electronic age. Interconnectivity had reached a dizzying height. Though the first home-based units were still somewhat of a novelty, he predicted that they would become common-place in every home in the coming years. The march of technology was inevitable. What people didn't realize was just how insecure and accessible their lives would become in the process. It had already started.

It made his job easier in many respects, harder in others. The amount of data to sift through was phenomenal, but the techies in the Company were efficient at developing programs that could rapidly pare the gigabytes of information down to the interesting stuff that required human review to interpret.

He smiled as a map of the US spun onto the screen, intersecting circles blipping in and out, as the computer calculated the position of the transmitter code he had provided. The map turned, and the view narrowed slowly on the west coast, shifting to the Pacific Northwest, with the final blinking dot indicating a location just outside of Portland, Oregon.

What the hell were they doing in Portland?

**CHAPTER 11: Mind Games**

Murdock heard the front door of the house open. He didn't bother to poke his head out of the kitchen. The last time he did that, he had received the full brunt of a glare from Haley who headed straight up the stairs without saying a word. Obviously Face had been unable to work his usual charm on the opposite sex. Murdock took some comfort in the fact that it demonstrated Haley had a good head on her shoulders, at least where men were concerned.

But then a voice called out, "Hey, guys!" And he grinned.

"Ames is here! C'mon, Syd, I want to introduce you." He wiped his hands on a towel and strode out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Chiquita!" He enveloped Amy in a bear hug as she walked into the living room. "You're early."

Amy returned the hug. "Dr. Richter and I actually started driving last night. I forgot what a haul it was. We drove in the last few hours this morning."

He grinned and released her. "You should have flown. It's not like you had a cry baby like BA with ya or somethin'."

She smiled and shook her head. "How have you been, Murdock?"

"Crazy as ever."

His grin faded when Richter walked in behind her. "Hello, Murdock."

Murdock considered the Doc for several long seconds, before turning away without responding. "Syd, c'mon out here and meet Amy. Frank, why don't you get on the com to Hannibal and BA and let them know our guests have arrived."

He caught Amy's apologetic glance at Richter, before she turned a reproving look on him. He shrugged and continued to ignore Richter's presence. If he opened his mouth he'd be blatantly rude, and he figured the cold shoulder was preferable.

He realized that Amy's gaze was now focused behind him, and turned to find Sydney standing there. He smiled, and reached out a hand, pulling her forward. "Syd, I'd like you to meet Amy Allen."

Sydney took Amy's hand in a firm handshake. "It's nice to meet you, Amy."

When Murdock didn't continue with the introductions, Syd turned to the doctor and held out her hand. "Dr. Richter, I'm Sydney Wilson. It's nice to see you again."

Richter tipped his head as he shook her hand. "We've met?"

"A couple years ago. At the time, my name was Alexis Smith." Sydney's eyes never waivered from Richter's. "Dr. Asher referred me?"

Realization dawned, but Richter's gaze became guarded. "Oh, I remember – David's retrograde amnesia patient. So, you've recovered you memory?"

"You don't recognize her?" Murdock spoke to the Doctor for the first time.

Richter turned to look at Murdock. "Well, I recognize her as Dr. Asher's patient, Alexis Smith. But that's not what you mean, is it?"

Murdock approached his former psychiatrist. "Sydney Wilson. We discussed her more than once. I even showed you her picture." His gaze was openly disbelieving.

Richter studied Sydney for a moment. "She's the woman you talked about early in your therapy?"

"She's the one."

"I thought you said she was dead." Richter's eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"I did. But you knew differently, didn't you?" Murdock crossed his arms.

"You think I knew who she was?"

Murdock nodded. "You saw her picture."

Richter's face registered first confusion, followed by a dawning understanding, and disbelief. "That tattered black and white photo you carried everywhere?"Murdock considered the odds that his once-trusted therapist truly hadn't known who Sydney was. It was possible. But there were still things about his story that didn't add up. "It wasn't that bad a picture . . ."

Richter sighed. "Murdock, if I had known who she was, don't you think I would have told you? I thought we trusted each other."

Murdock's jaw clenched at the accusation in Richter's tone. "Honestly, I'm not sure who to trust anymore."

Richter's shoulders wilted. He held Murdock's unrelenting gaze for several seconds, then began to pace. "OK, then, what am I doing here?"

*

Murdock lapsed into a brooding silence, and Sydney answered, "I'm afraid there are still gaps – critical gaps – in my memory."

Richter stopped and turned toward Sydney, his eyes narrowed. "Then you should consult _your_ therapist."

Sydney watched the Doctor to gage his reaction as she responded, "That will be difficult. Dr. Asher is dead."

Richter's jaw dropped. "Dead? When? How?"

Sydney kept her voice level, analytical. "Yesterday evening. Single gun-shot wound to the head. The locals think it was suicide."

Richter snorted. "David. Suicide. Never."

Sydney tipped her head and considered the doctor through narrowed eyes. Richter seemed on the up and up. At least she felt certain he had no involvement in Asher's death. Though that didn't necessarily mean he hadn't helped Asher two years ago, she felt certain, based on Richter's responses and attitude, that the relationship between the two men was strained at best. Her face relaxed into a cool smile. "I said the same thing."

"I still don't think I can help you," Richter said.

Sydney felt a familiar niggling of apprehension. "Why not?"

"Ms. Wilson –"

"Sydney, please."

"Sydney, I've known David Asher for a very long time. He's one of the most brilliant hypnotherapists in the world. He has developed theories that have shaped research in the area for the last three decades. Unfortunately, he has always . . . _stretched_ the ethical boundaries that most psychiatrists work within."

The niggling turned into clawing as the apprehension took a strangle-hold in her gut. "What are you saying?"

Richter glanced down, and when he looked back at Sydney, his look was veiled and she had the vague sensation that he was not being entirely forthcoming. "I don't know, obviously, but . . . retrograde amnesia is a rare condition. Rarer still, is when that amnesia persists for a long period of time . . ."

"How rare?"

Richter shifted. "Rare enough that . . . I suspect Dr. Asher was responsible for the ongoing nature of your condition."

Sydney lowered herself onto the couch. In between the slugs of evidence that Asher was a liar, she managed to somehow dissuade herself from the conspiracy theory forming at the back of her mind. She didn't want to accept that she had been manipulated for 15 long years. Unfortunately, the mounting evidence was making it difficult to ignore. Face had described recent events as an emotional roller coaster, but that seemed far too tame an analogy. She was thinking her life, in general, resembled more of a Class 5 hurricane.

Hannibal strode into the room a moment later. "What did I miss?" The Colonel's sharp eyes assessed the scene in a glance. "Apparently quite a bit."

Sydney didn't really recall the next several seconds; or was it minutes? Murdock's voice shook her out of her trance. "Syd, are you OK?"

Murdock now sat beside her on the couch, and Sydney looked into his warm, and very worried eyes, and tried on a smile. It felt wrong. Based on the deepening concern in Murdock's gaze she knew it must look wrong, too. Then she glanced around the room, and realized everyone was staring at her.

"I'm fine . . . fine."

Hannibal broke the tension. "Amy, you're in the kitchen with me to finish up dinner. BA, take Frankie and rig up triggers at those weak points in our perimeter – something flashy, Frank!" The room cleared in seconds, and Sydney silently thanked Hannibal for his consideration.

She turned to the Doctor. "Why can't you help?"

Richter licked his lips, and sat down in the chair near Sydney. "Let me ask you this: how often did Asher utilize hypnotherapy in your treatment?"

Sydney considered Richter silently for several seconds. His demeanor had shifted from slight deception to vague guilt. She was trying to decide whether to trust the man or not. Her voice when she finally responded was a monotone. "Quite a bit in the beginning . . . maybe two or three times per week. It tapered off slowly, dropping to once a week, then once a month. Eventually, it was only when my anxiety attacks would flare up."

Richter's eyes narrowed. "Tell me about your anxiety attacks."

"You know, anxiety attacks. Where your heart races, and you feel anxious, but there's no reason for it – the usual."

Sydney could tell by Richter's hesitation that the anxiety attacks might not be so usual.

Richter took a deep breath. "You've heard of post-hypnotic suggestion, right? It's a technique often used to treat addictions. For example, in a smoker I might implant the suggestion that when they have the urge to light up, they will instead chew a piece of gum. It's a simple reflex response embedded in the patient's subconscious mind during hypnosis, with a simple post-hypnosis trigger – wanting a smoke."

Sydney leaned forward. "So what you are suggesting is that Asher implanted a post-hypnotic suggestion causing me to feel as if I'm having an anxiety attack any time I start to remember?"

Richter nodded. "In the simplest sense, yes. But it would be a far more complex trigger. Honestly, I'm not even sure how it could be done. Remembering isn't targeted enough, though with an existing amnesiac, perhaps the mechanism would be similar enough to craving a cigarette to allow it to be used as a trigger."

"You know, in the grocery store yesterday, I could feel an anxiety attack coming on. Usually I would go home and curl up in my bedroom until it passed, but yesterday was different. Why, when the memories came back, didn't I have a severe attack?"

"You passed out, Syd," Murdock said. "That's pretty severe."

Richter shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe the sight of Murdock triggered such an overwhelming rush of memories that it short-circuited the post-hypnotic suggestion. Just conjecture on my part, but I think that's possible. Could explain the blackout, too."

"Then why can't I remember that one day?" Sydney heard her own voice rise in frustration. Murdock gave her hand a comforting squeeze, his thumb running soothingly over the back of her knuckles.

"Again, just theories, based on what I know. It's possible that it's your own brain's defensive mechanism. If that's the case, you may never recover the memory of that day. Or, it could be that, for some reason, Asher embedded redundant blocks on that particular day."

"That's possible?"

"I'm not sure, but as I said, David Asher was at the leading edge of hypnotherapy. What concerns me is your reaction to anything I might do to try to help you recover your memory. The consequences are unpredictable, and could be severe, possibly even leading to psychosis. I'm not willing to take that risk so you can regain a day's worth of memory."

Sydney clicked her tongue in frustration as she stood up, pacing in a tight circle. "So what you're saying is we've come 2500 miles just to get back to square one."

"I truly am sorry," Richter said.

Sydney spun away and strode toward the door.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw HM stand and start after her. "Syd?" His tone conveyed a question, and his concern.

She turned at the door. "I'm OK, HM. I just . . . need some fresh air, and time to think."

"I'll come with you –"

"No!" She shook herself. How could she make him understand what a distraction he was? "I need some time alone, to sort things out. I'll be fine – just give me some space." She gave him an apologetic smile before hurrying out of the house, into the wide open mountain paradise, where she hoped the claustrophobic feeling would disappear and she'd be able to process what she had learned with a clear head. She laughed humorlessly at the irony of that thought as she took off down a narrow path, away from the lake.

*

Murdock sighed in frustration. "Jesus. Did you have to be so hopeless about the whole thing? I mean, there's gotta be something we can do. You helped me recover a good portion of my memories – with a few exceptions."

"Murdock, you recovered those memories on your own. All I provided was a safe environment for you to allow yourself to remember." Richter shook his head slowly. "Perhaps, if I had Asher's files I could determine how best to help Sydney. But even then, the chances are slim that I could decipher whatever games he was playing with her mind – _if_ he even wrote it down."

Hannibal walked out of the kitchen and glanced around the room before focusing on Murdock. "Was that Syd I heard leaving?"

He nodded. "Doctor Richter says there isn't anything he can do to safely recover Syd's memories, Colonel."

Hannibal pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it, puffing thoughtfully for a few seconds. "I don't suppose she's taking that news too well. So, what now?"

"I think we're dead in the water, here," Murdock said. "Maybe a trip to Laos to shake down Kyeh?"

"I don't want to take Syd and Haley into that rat's nest, and I'm not sure where we could stash them so they would be safe without us around. Here's probably the best option, but it's so secluded. That can be both good and bad."

"Maybe there is something I can do to help." Richter's eyes were locked on Murdock.

The pilot considered Richter narrowly. "I don't like that look, Doctor."

Richter approached him. "I may not be able to help Sydney recover her memories. But you, Murdock, maybe we can get you to remember."

Murdock shook his head. "You tried for over a decade and couldn't do it."

"But don't you see, Murdock, Sydney is alive."

"Yeah, I know."

Richter shook his head impatiently. "I told you the reason you couldn't remember was likely related to the death of your female friend. But she's _not dead_. So the reason for your mind to protect you from those memories has been removed."

"So you want to put me under hypnosis?" Murdock asked.

"Hypnosis may not be necessary." Richter caught and held the pilot's gaze. "However, trust definitely is."

Murdock clenched his teeth. "We could have a problem then."

"I told you, Murdock. I didn't recognize her." Richter's voice was even, but Murdock thought he recognized a lilt of guilt, or maybe it was hurt. He wasn't sure he really gave a damn, either way. "Murdock, you have to believe that if I had recognized her, I would have told you."

"You said you suspect Asher was manipulating Sydney because it's unusual for amnesia like she has to persist for so long."

"That's correct."

Murdock's gaze hardened. "And you didn't recognize that same thing when Alexis Smith showed up in your office two years ago?"

"I told you, I didn't know who she was –"

Murdock's teeth ground in an attempt to keep his mounting anger in check. "But you knew Alexis Smith was a long term amnesiac. You knew Asher was likely manipulating her. And yet you didn't do anything about it. In fact, something tells me you knew far more than you let on about Alexis Smith, and yet _you did nothing_ to help her. Why is that, Doctor? Huh? I really want to know." His voice dropped to a menacing snarl, his control deteriorating.

Richter seemed to realize slowly that he had misread his patient's lingering anger. Hannibal took a step forward, positioning himself so that a single step would bring him between the two men. Murdock recognized it immediately as a protective gesture. Hannibal wanted to make sure Murdock didn't hurt Richter. The realization made Murdock's gut twist – surely the Colonel didn't think he'd stoop so low as to attack the defenseless man.

He emitted a low growl as he recognized that perhaps Hannibal was right. He stood abruptly and glanced at the door through which Syd had disappeared only minutes before. He had promised her some space, but he needed some, too. He turned and jogged up the stairs and out onto the upper veranda at the end of the hall. He gripped the railing and gazed out at the serene setting, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging in his mind.

Richter may not have known who Alexis Smith was, but he sure as hell had known that she was being manipulated by Asher. He had known and he had done nothing to help her. It was unforgivable.

Doctor Allen Richter could take his fucking trust and shove it up his ass.

Back down in the living room, Hannibal watched his pilot disappear up the stairs like a wild animal bolting out of an open cage door. He turned back to Richter. The Doctor stood uncertainly in the center of the room staring after Murdock in shock.

Hannibal cleared his throat. "You're lucky. I'm getting older and I'm not sure I could have kept him from pounding the shit out of you if he decided he wanted to."

Richter sat down in the chair heavily, shaking his head. "It's been a long time since I saw him that angry."

Hannibal let that statement hang in the air for a few seconds before prodding the shaken therapist. "So tell me, Doc – did you know?"

Richter's eyes spoke volumes when he finally raised them to look at Hannibal. "He's right. I knew. Worse yet, I knew and I did nothing. It's unconscionable."

Hannibal took a seat on the couch and leaned forward. "Maybe you should explain."

* * *

The hike up the mountain, to the ridge behind the house was steep and strenuous. As Sydney's body worked up the long slope, her mind struggled with the possibility that she would never remember what had happened to her 15 years ago. She refused to accept it, just as she refused to listen to her muscles screaming that they had had enough. She pushed until she reached the top of the ridge, where she stood gasping for breath as her eyes drank in the beautiful, rugged landscape below her.

Sydney found a boulder on the ridge that offered a good place to sit and leaned back against the cool rock. Her breathing and heart rate slowly returned to normal, but her mind continued to chew on the problem at hand. Her damn, fickle memory was testing the limits of her patience. She had to know, and if Richter wouldn't help her, then she would figure out some way to recover the memory herself. Maybe walking through the events of January 26 and 27, 1972 would help. She started with the last vivid memory – her encounter with Murdock in the supply shed. She had a head start on that one.

The scenery slipped out of focus as she turned her gaze inward, remembering the end of the evening . . . or rather, early morning . . .

_January 27, 1972, shortly after 0300_

"Damn, sugar, I gotta go." Murdock stumbled to his feet, getting tangled in the blankets as he dug for his discarded clothing.

"When do you leave?" Sydney watched him, her heart sinking at the thought of him heading out on mission. A mission she was sure was a setup.

"0600, so we arrive just before the bank opens." Murdock pulled on his pants and turned to look at her, still sprawled naked on the blankets.

"Don't go, HM." She could hear the petulance in her voice and she hated it. She knew what his response would be even as she said it.

"Unless you can give me something more concrete to take to Colonel Smith than your gut, we have to follow our orders." He pulled the t-shirt over his head.

He was right, she had precious little evidence to offer: a half-heard conversation between Kyeh and a subordinate officer; a suspicious exchange between Morrison and Curtis; and the cryptic ledger that she suspected detailed illegal transactions between Morrison's network and the NVA. She was sure Colonel Morrison could come up with plausible explanations for all. Her gut told her Morrison and Curtis were on the NVA payroll. With the end of the war looming, they needed an exit strategy, and Smith's Alpha Team was theirs. She was sure of it.

She reached over and grabbed her pants, standing in one fluid motion. Murdock caught her and pulled her against his chest. "Don't go away mad, sugar. I'll tell Hannibal what you told me. We'll be careful. I promise."

Sydney pushed him away, angry. "Platitudes, Murdock. God damn platitudes. You, Lew, Smith . . . hell, even Ray told me I'm imagining things. I'm just a delusional woman who wants to keep her man safe. It's bullshit!"

She pulled her clothes on, avoiding the pilot's keen gaze.

He looked at his watch. "If I'm gonna get a couple hours of shuteye before we leave, I gotta get goin', sugar."

"Stop calling me that, damn it!"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him one more time, ignoring the anger flashing in her eyes. She put her hands against his chest, but he was stronger than her and wouldn't let go. "Sydney, calm down. I don't think you're delusional. Neither did Ray. But you know how the Army works. We refuse the mission, we're thrown in the stockade. Unless you have something concrete, we don't have a choice."

Sydney looked up into his eyes. "We could just leave. Now. I have an exit. You can come with me –"

"I can't leave my unit, Syd."

"Ray left."

"Ray's tour was up. It's different. You know I can't leave."

She grabbed the front of his flight suit in her fists. "HM, please. I have a bad feeling about this one. Let's go talk to Hannibal. Let me tell him –"

"I'll talk to Hannibal. I'll tell him what you told me. It's not going to change the facts." He glanced over her shoulder at his watch. "Please, Syd, let it go. We're damn good at what we do. We'll be fine. We always are."

He leaned down and kissed her firmly on the lips. After a moment of resistance, Syd returned the kiss hungrily. She prolonged the contact, her arms snaking around his neck, her tongue probing his mouth. She pressed herself against him, and felt his response.

He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently away. "Damn woman," he growled. "I have to go." He turned and walked away.

"HM . . ." Sydney winced at the plaintive sound of her voice.

He turned and flashed her a cocky smile. "I'll be back later, and we'll continue this conversation. I promise."

Sydney's eyes refocused on the rocky landscape spread at her feet. Murdock hadn't kept that promise. Tears stung her eyes. She had watched him walk out of her life that day. Hands clasped tightly in her lap, Sydney forced her eyes closed and ignored the tears running down her face. She needed to be calm and run through the events dispassionately, not fall apart analyzing what she had lost. She took several deep breaths, and forced herself to continue . . .

_January 27, 1972, 0330_

Sydney waited 15 minutes after Murdock was gone before exiting the shed. She cursed when she realized she would have to leave it unlocked. Hopefully Face would take care of that little SNAFU. She took a circuitous route back to her quarters, purposely choosing a path that would bring her close to Morrison's hootch. She was surprised to see light leaking around the shutters, and slipped closer, hoping to find out something that would put a stop to the suicide mission the Team was assigned.

She wasn't disappointed. She heard Morrison inside. "They leave this afternoon. They should be at the bank by 1900. Make sure your men are in place and ready."

Her stomach knotted when she recognized the heavy accent of General Kyeh as he responded. "The A-Team will be killed. My men are prepared. But what of the pilot?"

"Leave Captain Murdock to us." Sydney struggled to recall where she had heard the voice of the third man in the hoocth. She edged up to look through the tiny gap between the shutter and the building, but the field of vision was too limited to provide any view of the occupants.

"My friends, I trust you not to leave any, what do you Americans call it – loose ends. I am taking a great risk helping you this overtly. If my superiors suspect anything –"

"You worry too much Kyeh." The third voice said. "Captain Murdock is not your concern."

She heard movement and the creak of a door opening. Morrison's voice was curt. "You both better get out of here, before the night post makes its next round."

Sydney heard the door creak shut, followed by Morrison shuffling around his hootch. Kyeh and the other man had not exited through the main door, and she found herself wondering how they left. She was just about to slip around to the other side of the hootch to see if she could find an alternative exit when the main door did open, spilling light into the night just around the corner from where she crouched. "Lewis, it's about time you showed up. We need to go over the latest plans for today. We're moving start time back to 1700. That should put the Team in position to hit the bank just as the Tet New Year celebrations are kicking into high gear."

Syd listened for a few minutes as Morrison and her partner hashed through a few details of the plan for the A-Team's next mission. Morrison sounded, for all intents and purposes, like a concerned CO, and Lew seemed to buy the act. She hoped she would be able to convince her partner differently. She didn't bother to stay and listen. Instead, she slipped around the back of the hootch, and tried to find where the two earlier visitors had exited. She found the exit almost immediately, a low door, or sorts, fashioned into the side of the wall facing away from camp. She could see a faint trail leading away from the hootch and decided to follow it.

Her mind wandered as she weaved into the trees behind the hootch. She knew the basics of the Team's mission that day. After the drop, Murdock was due to report back to HQ. She was fairly confident that she would still be on base when he returned. After all, she and Lew had been caught up in post-troop-withdrawal preparations. The CIA had already set up training camps for the South Vietnamese, but helping them develop their own spy network was going to take time, and was essential if the South was to have any hope of success. In fact, it occurred to her that they hadn't been involved in the intel gathering for the Hanoi job – it was something she, herself, had learned by accident.

Eventually the trail she was following petered out, and she was left to pick her way back to the base. She got back to her own quarters, where she put on her clothes. She came to the decision that she was going to have to tell Lew about the overheard conversation between Morrison and Kyeh. Normally, it wasn't something she would share with Lew, but she had a feeling she was going to need all the help she could get if she was going to scuttle the mission on such short notice. At least she had some time, since the Team wasn't due to leave until this afternoon.

She found Lewis in his room, bare to the waist, and bleary-eyed. "What the hell, Syd. We aren't on duty for another 4 hours." He squinted at her. "Have you even been to bed?"

"Lew, I overheard Morrison talking to Kyeh and another man. The Hanoi job is a set up."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her into his quarters. The door swung shut behind her. "What the hell are you talking about, Sydney?"

"Just before you arrived at Morrison's hootch this morning, Kyeh was there, talking to the Colonel and someone else. They were making plans to eliminate Smith's Alpha Team."

"Kyeh was in Morrison's hootch? C'mon Syd, that's a stretch."

"I was right outside, Lew. And I know Kyeh's voice. Besides, he was addressed by name. It was Kyeh alright."

Lew's face hardened. "What were you doing outside Morrison's hootch, Sydney?"

Syd stopped and considered what to tell Lew, finally deciding now was no time to dance around the relationship she had with Murdock. "I went to see Murdock last night. To warn him to be careful on the mission. Which reminds me, when did you get involved in the intel for the Hanoi job?"

"You went to see Murdock – you've both been told to cool it, Sydney. As far as the Hanoi job – I'd like to know how the hell _you_ know about it."

"Give it a rest, Lew. You know Murdock and I are seeing each other. Everyone encouraged it after the Team came back from the POW camp." Sydney shook her head in frustration. "That's totally beside the point, anyway. How I know about the Hanoi job is less important than the fact that _it is a setup_. We have to scuttle that mission, Lew. Murdock was going to talk to Smith, but you know how credible he finds my intel."

Lew's golden-brown eyes took on a gray cast, cold and distant. "What, exactly, did you tell Murdock, Sydney?"

Sydney felt vaguely uncomfortable under that gaze. "Just what I told you, though I didn't have anything concrete until now."

"He doesn't know about the overheard conversation?"

"No." Her brows knitted in consternation. "No. I had already left him by then."

"I thought you were in your quarters, Sydney. If you went to see Murdock last night, what were you doing wandering around the base at 3am?"

Sydney felt a flush creep up her face at the question, but she was getting frustrated with her partner's thick-headedness."Damn it, Lewis, you're missing the point. We need to scuttle the Hanoi mission. It's a setup."

"I need to know exactly what you told Smith's pilot, Sydney."

In her mind the exchange continued on an endless loop, stretching like a veil over other memories that she knew must follow. Try as she might to recreate the conversation in her mind, or to skip past it, she couldn't. That was all she could seem to access. She consoled herself with the knowledge that it was over an hour beyond what she had managed to remember prior to the exercise. That, at least was progress. Maybe the guys could help her. If she reached Lewis, they must have managed to get a message to Hannibal. But her stomach twisted into a knot as she realized that if they had gotten to Hannibal, surely the Team wouldn't have gone on the mission. It seemed strange that she hadn't discussed her suspicions about Morrison and Curtis with her partner, but she couldn't recall her own reasoning behind that decision. Obviously, something had gone terribly wrong after she finally did talk to Lewis. But what?

She stood and stretched, glancing at her watch. She had been gone for over an hour. HM would be worried if she didn't get back soon. The time alone had allowed her to regroup, at least. She had remembered incrementally more than she knew before, and though what she recalled seemed to raise more questions than it answered, she still saw it as progress.

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 12**

"Mr. Cheney. It's Rochelle out on the west coast. You wanted to know if Jeremy Lewis came in to access Echelon?"

"That's right."

"Well, sir, he just left. He didn't provide a case number, but I let him through, just as you instructed."

"You have the results of his query?"

"Yes, sir. Access code 59HMM091988. Do you need anything else?"

"Thank you, Rochelle. That should do it."

Ike put down the secured satellite phone, and turned to the computer screen. He pulled the keyboard forward and typed in the access code. A map of the US slowly narrowed until it centered on Portland, Oregon.

Ike smiled. "Colonel Smith, you old codger, you still have some tricks up your sleeve."

Ike had always admired Smith. He had been pleased when his protégé was recruited by him. He knew Smith's unorthodox alpha team training coupled with Murdock's black ops and counter-intelligence training would produce a formidable asset in the young pilot.

Unfortunately, Smith's definition of unorthodox and Ike's definition of unorthodox were sufficiently different that Ike realized that asset would be useless to him. It had been his one miscalculation in Vietnam.

**CHAPTER 12: Melt Down Reflections**

Haley had watched her mother practically run out of the house earlier, her furious pace carrying her up into the woods beside the house, and out of sight. A short while later she heard footsteps pound up the stairs, and down the hall. When she peeked out of her room she saw HM standing at the railing of the balcony at the side of the house.

She ducked back into her room and considered what that meant. Had HM and her mother had an argument over her? She felt conflicting emotions about that possibility. She hoped beyond hope that HM was her father. The more she got to know him, the more she liked him. But she also knew _that_ was her impulsive heart, ready to leap at the chance to know the father she had dreamed about for so long.

Her mind told her to step back and look at the big picture. Jerry's warnings couldn't just be ignored, unless he wasn't a good guy. But Jerry worked for the CIA, he knew Mom, he was part of the government – he had to be a good guy. The A-Team had been fugitives for over a decade, which had to mean they were bad guys, unless she considered the possibility that they were wrongly accused. Even so, that didn't necessarily make them good. So why did she dump the satellite phone Jerry had given her as soon as they landed in Portland? Her mother would tell her to trust her instincts, but her instincts were so conflicted at the moment she didn't know what to trust.

Maybe she should follow her mother's lead. She obviously trusted the A-Team. She admitted that she loved HM. She seemed so incredibly comfortable and at ease around them – more so than Haley had ever witnessed. In the end, that swayed her opinion more than anything else. If her mother trusted the A-Team, then she should, too.

But where did that leave Jerry? Misguided, maybe, like the rest of the government must be if the A-Team were the good guys? Or did he have some other motive to get her to distrust men that her mother obviously trusted so completely? Haley dropped her head into her hands. It hurt thinking about it, but the need to puzzle it out had become obsessive.

She heard the door to the balcony open and close, followed quickly by the sound of her mother's bedroom door opening. A minute later, the balcony door opened and closed again.

She ventured another look out of her bedroom. HM sat in one of the lounges on the balcony. He seemed much calmer now, his long legs stretched in front of him, with a silver box sitting on his lap. She watched as he opened the box and extracted something from it. Her curiosity carried her silently down the hall to take a closer look. She could see that it was a picture, but of what she couldn't tell. She was going to have to talk to him if she wanted to know what was going on. She opened the door to the balcony, and took the plunge. "Hey. What are you doing?"

*

Murdock started when Haley appeared. He took a deep breath. He really wasn't sure he was up to dealing with her hot and cold attitude right now. He glanced down and tried to see the box through a teenager's eyes – boring. Maybe she wouldn't stay. "Just looking at some old stuff."

"Who's in the picture?"

He looked back down at the tattered black and white photo. Face had taken it, and Murdock had carried it with him everywhere for several years. In the picture Sydney and he stood grinning, with their arms around each other. At the time he thought her name was Sheila, though the truth was he never really thought the name fit her. He ran a thumb over her image. It was shot from several feet away, and her features weren't real clear. He thought the picture was better than that. Maybe it was just that he had such a clear image of Syd in his mind that he never noticed that the photo was lousy.

"HM, are you there?" Haley was waving a hand in front of his face.

He had forgotten she was there, or maybe it was wishful thinking. If he ignored her, would she just disappear? Apparently not. He held out the photo without saying anything. Would she recognize her mother?

Haley dropped into the adjacent chair and examined the picture for several seconds. "Is that you?" He nodded, and Haley pointed to the woman. "Is _that_ Mom?" Her eyes widened.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad picture. "Yes. It was taken shortly after we met."

"Good guess, huh?" Haley held the photo out to him.

He took the photo out of her fingers and dropped it into the box. Maybe he'd have to give that one to Richter. He probably wouldn't have been able to recognize Syd from the photo.

Haley pursed her lips and leaned forward. "What else have you got in there?"

Murdock grunted and flipped the lid shut. "Just a bunch of old stuff, like I said."

"Were those medals?"

"You know, Haley, it's really nothing of interest to you." Murdock knew he was being grumpy with her, but he really just wanted to be left alone.

"Soor-r-ree!" Haley responded. "I was just trying to be friendly."

"Why start now?"

"Who peed in your cereal?"

Murdock snorted and shook his head. "You."

Haley sat back "I think you have that backward."

Murdock raised his eyebrows and turned to her. "What?"

Haley looked at him silently for several seconds, then jumped to her feet, pacing as she talked. "Yesterday you dropped into my life like a lead balloon. I haven't got a clue who you are but, BAM!" She smacked her hands together for effect. "You want to act like some long-lost father. I suppose screwing the mother is a father's prerogative. Obviously it doesn't matter how _I_ feel." She crossed her arms and turned to glare at him.

Murdock knew his cool was slipping, if it had ever really been there to begin with. He stood and faced her, allowing his frustration with her full reign. "You want to talk about behavior – let's talk about yours, little girl. I have been nothing but nice to you. I've tried to engage you, get to know you. Sometimes, I even think I'm getting through that thick skull of yours. Then suddenly you start treating me like the enemy, again. I'm getting whiplash every time we talk."

He decided belatedly that he had gone too far. Haley's face had pinched closed. "How do I know you aren't the enemy?"

He lifted his hands in surrender. "What makes you think I am?"

She was quiet for several seconds before answering, but her words landed like a sucker punch. "You admitted to running drugs. You and your friends have been convicted of murdering your commanding officer. Who knows, maybe you're the one who raped Mom."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Is that what you think of me? Drugs, murder . . . rape. I'm not that kind of man, Haley. You shouldn't believe everything you hear . . . or make up in that active imagination of yours."

"So I'm just supposed to take your word?"

He shook his head with a wry smile as he leaned down to retrieve his worldly possessions. "It's all I've got, kid." He straightened and leveled her with a challenging gaze. "Take it or leave it."

"Arrrgh! How am I supposed to know who to trust?" Haley swung her hands out in an expansive gesture that knocked the box out of Murdock's hands. Her eyes went wide as the contents scattered across the deck.

Lying between them was a ring box holding a diamond ring that winked in the sunlight. Near the ring were medals, and a little further away were several ribbons. The photos had not yet landed.

Murdock watched the pictures drift away on the gentle breeze and heaved a defeated sigh. "Perfect."

He leaned down and scooped up the ring box, snapping it shut in the process. The photos - well, they were lousy photos, anyway - the pictures in his head were much better. He stepped over the decorations, brushed by Haley, and walked back into the house without a word. There was nothing left to say.

*

Haley stared around herself in shock. She hadn't meant to do that, and she opened her mouth to tell Murdock she was sorry, but the words stuck in her throat, and then her was gone. She dropped to her knees and picked up the nearest items - the medals. The first two she recognized as purple hearts, which she knew meant he had been wounded twice in the line of duty. The third was a gold star, with a tiny silver star in the center – the phrase 'FOR GALLANTRY IN ACTION' was inscribed on the back. There were also three solid blue ribbons, a couple purple ones, and several striped ones, in all different colors. She wondered what they all meant. She snatched the box from nearby and carefully laid the medals and ribbons inside, before standing up and scurrying around the deck to gather the photos. Tears pricked her eyes, as she picked up the picture of HM and her mother. They looked so happy. How could she possibly have believed he was one of the bad guys?

What had she done?

* * *

Amy set the last of the silverware out and considered her handiwork. She was looking forward to sharing a meal with the guys. It had been far too long since she had seen them. But then, that was her own fault – her own stubborn pride keeping her from a group of men that she held very dear.

She looked up as Sydney Wilson walked through the door. She wasn't sure what to make of the brief story she had heard. Murdock was obviously smitten, which surprised Amy. Murdock was an easy touch, but the only woman she recalled him getting involved with was that vet, Kelly. That hadn't ended well.

Sydney looked at Amy uncertainly. "Hi, Amy. Do you know where –"

Hannibal strode out of the kitchen at that moment. "It's about time you resurfaced. Feeling better?"

"I've always been good at compartmentalization." She smiled at the Colonel. "It's a handy talent."

Hannibal grunted, "Maybe you can help Murdock."

Sydney's smile fled, and her striking blue eyes crinkled in obvious worry. "What happened?"

"With Richter or with Haley?"

Sydney raked both hands back through her thick hair. "Both?"

"Murdock was pissed when he realized that Richter knew you were being manipulated two years ago and didn't do anything about it," Hannibal said. "Then he went upstairs, and I could hear him and Haley getting into it. Not sure what went on, but he disappeared right after that. I'd appreciate it if you could find him and talk to him."

"I think I heard him slam into one of the back bedrooms." Amy stepped forward, anxious. "I can go get him, if you want, Hannibal."

Hannibal offered her a fleeting smile. "Thanks, Amy, but I think this is a better job for Syd. You can take a break – maybe head down to the lake."

Amy glanced at the shorter woman, vaguely irritated. Hannibal nodded, assignments complete, and walked back into the kitchen.

Syd turned to her and smiled uncertainly. "You said you heard HM go into a back bedroom?"

Amy indicated a direction. "Yes, along the back, against the ridge. There are four small bedrooms that share a bathroom. Murdock kind of liked the smaller rooms. Said they reminded him of home."

"Home?"

"At the VA."

"Oh."

"Sydney . . ."

"Yes?"

Amy set her mouth in a thin line. "Never mind." She turned and walked out the door to head down to the lake.

*

Sydney watched after Amy for a few seconds. She was getting unfriendly signals from her, and wondered what she had done to aggravate her. It bothered her because it was obvious Amy had been a good friend to the Team. She was also fairly certain there was something going on between Amy and Face. Knowing Face had crashed down at the Lake, Syd doubted that Hannibal's suggestion that Amy head down there was casual. She suspected he was hoping to throw her and Face together to get the problem hashed out. Hannibal was a sly operator.

Sydney knew she would have to set things right between herself and Amy. A chat was definitely in order, but it would have to wait. Now, she was going to find Richter and pitch her idea. Then she would do as Hannibal asked and find Murdock. There would be time later to deal with Amy Allen.

* * *

Amy took a deep breath and sighed. She had only been here once before, just before her precipitous move to Jakarta. She had thought it was lovely then, but in the turmoil surrounding the end of that visit, she had forgotten just how peaceful it was.

She recalled when Face had first suggested the Team invest in this place. Even Hannibal had been dubious. But Face's reasoning was impeccable, and he had quickly won his Team over. They had purchased the house lot, along with the surrounding 200 acres. They deeded most of the property over to the national park service with the proviso that the land remain undeveloped. They maintained ownership of a right of way to the house, along with the four acres immediately surrounding it. The arrangement ensured that the house would remain secluded.

She reached the bottom of the steps cut into the rock, and picked her way to the lake, following a rough path that came out behind the bench near the dock. She could see a pair of familiar knees jutting up over the back of the bench. She crept forward quietly, and peeked over the back of the bench to find Face, sound asleep.

She had been surprised when he called her yesterday. She was even more surprised at the involuntary betrayal of her body to the sound of his voice. Now, seeing him, she questioned just how wise it had been to come. But the Team needed her, and she knew she couldn't stay away. Regardless of what had transpired last time she was here, she still cared for Face, deeply; just as she cared for all of them.

Face hadn't stirred, yet, and she had to smile. She had never managed to sneak up on one of the Team. They all seemed to sleep with their eyes open, and their senses on high alert, no matter where they were. It was a testament to how safe he felt here that Face would let his guard down this way. She pulled a long blade of grass from a nearby clump and leaned over the bench to tickle his nose with it – hoping that by starting off on a light note she could keep things between them from becoming awkward. But before she could bring the blade close, Face's hand shot up and caught hers in a firm grip.

She gave a shriek and jerked away.

He chuckled as he sat up and smoothed his hands over his hair. "Hey, Amy. I didn't realize you were here."

"Just got here a little while ago." She walked around the bench and stood facing him, arms crossed, heart careening.

He moved over and patted the bench next to him. She hesitated and shook her head. She had already tempted fate a little too much for the day. "I've been sitting for the last few hours. I need to stretch."

The shutters dropped on his eyes. "Uh, yeah, it is a heck of drive isn't it? Small price to pay for the solitude, though. Did you have any trouble convincing Richter to tag along?"

Amy shook her head. "Honestly, I think he really cares about Murdock. He didn't even ask any questions. Made the chilly greeting he received that much more difficult. You could have warned me."

'Sorry about that. Hannibal is pretty paranoid about the entire situation. He didn't want any leaks about what we were up to, or what we suspected. Murdock wasn't too easy on the Doc, was he?"

"Wouldn't even talk to him, at first. And when he did, he was pretty harsh." Her tone was accusatory, and she knew it. She was upset with Murdock for being so vindictive to Dr. Richter after he had made the long trek to the ranch from L.A.

Face sighed. "Give him a break, Amy. He's been through a lot."

"I've never seen him like that. It was disturbing. Honestly, it makes me wonder about the woman who seems to have precipitated all of this."

"You mean Sydney?"

Amy nodded.

"Sydney Wilson is not the enemy, here, Amy." Face stood, stretched. "She's as much a victim as we were – are."

"She just seems too calm. If I was in her position, I'd be mad as hell."

"Syd's always had a good game face. Get to know her before you judge her, Ames."

Amy shrugged and turned to look out at the lake. "I forgot how beautiful it was up here. Of course, I only came here that one time . . ."

"Amy, about that . . ." Face paused for several seconds, until Amy turned to look at him. "I mean, right afterwards I wished I could take it all back. Pretend it never happened --"

Amy felt her chest constrict. "Fine, let's pretend it never happened."

*

Face had to consciously close his mouth. The words he had been about to say were stuck in his throat. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah. I just . . . want everything to be Ok between us, you know?"

"Right back to the way it was?" Amy's face was expressionless.

Face nodded. "Amy, I care about you --"

"But not that way."

She kept interrupting him. Face clenched his teeth in frustration. This wasn't going the way he had planned.

The dinner bell clanged. Good, a chance to re-strategize. "It's time to eat. Good thing, too. I'm starving. We skipped lunch."

Amy nodded. "You go on ahead. I'm going to take a quick walk around the pond to work up an appetite. I'll see you up there."

Face watched her walk away. Jakarta had agreed with her. She was tanned, and healthy. She wore her hair in a short, stylish cut that curled around her fine features. He took a deep breath and turned toward the path. He had screwed that up royally.

* * *

In the back hallway the windows looked out on a rock wall, making this part of the house darker than the side that looked over the lake. Sydney had heard the dinner bell, and hoped it would cause the bottomless-pit of a pilot to surface, but no such luck.

She opened the fourth door and finally found him. The room was little more than a large closet with a double bed in it. Murdock lay on his back, an arm flung over his eyes with Converse-clad feet hanging over the edge of the bed. "Go away," he grumbled as soon as the door opened.

Sydney felt a chill run up her back. She stepped in and closed the door. "I remember the last time you said that to me." Her gaze unfocused as her mind slipped back to a few weeks after the Team had escaped from the POW camp. First Lewis, and then Colonel Smith had come to see her in quarters . . .

_April 6, 1971, ~1630_

"What in the hell were you doing attacking a couple of grunts in the bar?"

Lew had shown up less than half an hour after she returned to her quarters from the bar. The adrenalin rush from the fight was still pulsing an excess of nervous energy through her body. "There were three and they deserved it."

'God dammit, Sydney. This is serious. The base commander wants your head on a platter and I'm tempted to give it to him. Defending the A-Team, for chrissake. They're big boys, Syd."

There was a knock at the door.

"We're busy," Lewis barked.

The door opened, and Colonel Smith stepped into the crowded room. "Morrison wants to see you, Lewis."

"Now?"

"Now."

Lewis swung toward Sydney. "The MPs are on their way to pick you up. Go with them quietly, and be on your best behavior until I can get this cluster fuck cleared up." He turned and slammed out the door.

Sydney crossed her arms. "Morrison didn't really want to see him, did he?"

"He most certainly did. About an hour ago." Smith calmly pulled out a cigar, bit off the end and lit it, the tip glowing orange in the dim light of the room. "S.A. Wilson, I understand from my Lieutenant that you and my pilot are . . . friends."

Every muscle in her body tensed. They had been very careful to keep their relationship at just friends; or at least she had. "Yes."

"And why haven't you been to visit since we returned from our vacation?"

"I was ordered to stay away."

"Well, now, I'm countermanding that order, S.A. Wilson. Your presence is requested in the infirmary."

"Lewis –"

"I'll deal with Lewis." Smith's ice-blue eyes flashed, striking in the dim light. "I'm warning you, now, girl. This isn't going to be easy. Captain Murdock refuses to communicate with anyone. We've tried everything. This is my Lieutenant's suggestion, which I'm implementing because I'm out of other ideas. I just want you to understand that you are my last resort. If you can't snap Murdock out of it, he's going section 8. He'd be grounded for life. If you're half the _friend_ I think you are, you know that would kill him."

Sydney ground her teeth in an effort to check the tears that sprung to her eyes. Flying was Murdock's heart and soul.

She heard a jeep skid to a stop outside. "I'll do what I can, Colonel. You may have to get the base commander off my ass, first though."

She wasn't sure if the noise the Colonel made was a grunt or a chuckle. "So I heard."

No knock this time, the door slammed open and two MPs stalked in. Colonel Smith held up a hand. "Have Johnson contact me. S.A. Wilson and I have an appointment."

The MPs stopped, uncertain, but unwilling to ignore a superior officer. "Yes, sir." They saluted and left.

Smith turned and indicated the door, which still hung open. "After you, S.A. Wilson."

At the infirmary, Smith pushed the door open and indicated the farthest bed, where Murdock lay staring at the wall. Sydney forced herself to keep her expression neutral, but the sight of the wasted pilot just about broke her. He was little more than a skeleton with skin, gaunt and pale.

Face and Ray both stood from adjacent beds as she walked into the room. Like Murdock, they were far too thin. From the corner of her eye she caught movement and BA appeared at her elbow. "Hi little sister." She turned and looked at the large Sergeant. She had to stifle a gasp, he looked as wasted and thin as the others, but on him, it was more striking. He put a hand on her shoulder. "We OK. But Murdock . . ." His voice trailed off.

Face offered her a forced smile. "Hey, Syd. It's good to see you." He glanced at his friend and shook his head, worry apparent on his gaunt, but still handsome face. Murdock hadn't moved, no reaction at all to the voices, he just continued to stare at the wall.

Ray took her hands in a comforting grip and kissed her cheek. He whispered into her ear. "You can help him, Syd. I know you can." He gave her a gentle nudge toward the pilot. Smith made a gesture and they all filed out of the room.

Syd swallowed convulsively, getting her emotions under tight control. She was intimidated by the faith this group of men were placing in her. She overcame the momentary paralysis and grabbed a nearby chair. She moved it so it sat between Murdock and the wall, and sat down, gazing into empty brown eyes. "Hey, HM." She cleared her throat to loosen the knot forming there. She tried to keep her tone light. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

The eyes swiveled to look at her, less dead, but no less disturbing. He swallowed, and she leaned forward turning an ear to him as he struggled to talk. His voice came out weak and raspy. "Go away."

She looked in his eyes, her mouth set in a stubborn line. "You don't mean that."

He swallowed again, and lifted his head off the pillow. "Go away." His voice was stronger.

She crossed her arms and met his gaze. "No."

He sank back on the pillow, glaring at her. The nurse came striding through the door a moment later, carrying a tray with a pitcher of water, a glass and a straw. "I understand our patient has decided to talk today." She flashed Murdock a bright smile as she set the tray on the bedside table and filled the glass. "Some water may make that a little easier." She turned and handed the glass to Sydney with an encouraging smile before leaving them alone again.

Sydney held the glass down by HM's face and put the straw to his lips. At first she thought he was going to be stubborn and refuse the offered drink, but he finally took the straw between dry lips and took several long sips.

"If you want some more, just ask." Sydney set the glass back on the tray.

"Go away, Sydney." He was glaring at her again.

"Why?"

His jaw muscles worked, very noticeable on his sunken cheeks, but it was the shame in his eyes that caught Sydney off-guard. "Don't want _you_ here."

Sydney let the genuine hurt she felt show on her face. "Why?"

"Go away!" He turned away from her, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Goddam stubborn flyboy." Sydney muttered. "Too fucking bad, Murdock. I'm not going anywhere. You want me to leave, get your skinny ass off that bed and try to make me."

He closed his eyes and a tear rolled down his cheek. Sydney slid to her knees beside the bed. She brushed the tear away with her thumb as she put her hand on his face turning it so he had to look at her. "I'm not going anywhere, Murdock. Do you hear me? I'm staying right here." His eyes opened, and he nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

She would take what she could get.

Sydney shook herself. She had thought she'd screwed up, but she learned later that those were the first words Murdock had uttered since leaving the POW camp. The Team had been thrilled just to hear his voice. She looked at the man lying on the bed – healthy and well-fed, even if he was still skinny. She smiled. "You didn't mean it then, and I don't think you mean it now."

Murdock had lifted his arm and was squinting at her. "Syd? I thought you were Hannibal. He was up here once already looking for me."

"You tell Hannibal to 'go away' and live? I guess more has changed than I realized."

Murdock swung his legs over the side of the bed. "The line has moved south over the years. Hannibal lets us get away with a lot more now then he ever would have 15 years ago. Ask Face and BA, they'd say that's especially true with me."

Sydney chuckled. Hannibal had a definite soft spot where his remaining three men were concerned – especially his quirky pilot.

Murdock was studying her. "Are you OK, Syd?"

She crossed her arms and shrugged. "I guess. When those flashes of memory hit me, it's all too vivid. I remember how empty your eyes were, how thin you were . . ." an involuntary shudder shook her.

"I was pretty messed up. I don't know what I would've done if it hadn't been for everyone that helped me find my way back after the POW camp; you and the Team, especially, but even my old chopper crew, and Ike, and hell, even Morrison visited periodically to check up on me." Murdock shook his head. "I'm not sure what I would've done without all of the support."

"A lot of people were worried about you, that's for sure."

Murdock's eyes narrowed. "So, where did you go?"

"I climbed on top of this ridge behind the house."

"Pretty up there, isn't it? And peaceful. It's a good place to think."

Syd nodded. She had actually continued thinking all the way back down to the house. "I tried walking through the events of the day of the Bank of Hanoi job. I actually remembered a little more. I'm starting to wonder about Lewis . . ."

Murdock didn't really seem to be listening. He leaned forward, his voice sharp. "Syd, Dr. Richter said that could be dangerous!"

"All I'm doing is trying to remember what happened, how can that be dangerous?"

"Who knows what kind of screwed up memory trigger Asher planted in that pretty little head? Please don't tempt fate, sugar, especially all by yourself. I'd feel better if someone at least knew where you were and what you were up to."

Her jaw set. "Now that was condescending."

"Don't try and pull that crap on me, Sydney. I am simply expressing reasonable concern for your welfare. It may have been 15 years, but I still recognize when you're pushing. Push too hard on this front and you may just lose yourself."

"Speaking from experience?"

"It was a few years after the war before I decided reality was a safe place to live, Syd. I'm not willing to let that happen to you. I need you here with me. So does Haley."

It was only a couple steps to the bed, and Sydney dropped onto it. "How do you know I won't lose myself if I _don't_ remember, HM? I need closure. I need to know who to trust – including myself."

She fingered the knitted afghan folded over the end of the bed. Murdock's large hand covered hers and closed around it, protective, comforting. "Dr. Richter says he thinks he can help _me_ remember that day. Do you think that might help?"

She raised her eyes to his. "I think it might be helpful for all of us to sit down and rehash what we remember – kind of like a group therapy session. Maybe what one person mentions will spark a memory for someone else. Dr. Richter can moderate, and keep an eye on everyone to make sure nothing goes haywire."

Murdock pursed his lips, and nodded slowly. "I'm not so sure about Richter being involved, but sitting down and talking about that day probably isn't a bad idea."

Syd took a deep breath. "I already talked to Dr. Richter about it. He agreed it was worth a try." She turned to face Murdock. "You need to forgive him, HM. What happened two years ago wasn't his fault. He was told my memory was being blocked for some top secret national security bullshit reason. He admits that he didn't really believe it; that was why he acted the way he did when I went in to see him. He didn't want any part of my continuing _therapy,_ so he made sure I wouldn't want to come back. In a way, that was probably more help then he realized."

"And did you know he's not a licensed psychiatrist, but a psychologist? Asher made sure Richter knew if he didn't cooperate that he'd make his life a living hell. I don't blame him for what happened, and neither should you. Richter is a good man, and he was caught in a no-win situation. I would think you, of all people, should understand that."

Murdock sighed. "Way to make me feel like a heel, Syd."

She reached up and kissed his cheek. Even when they sat down he towered over her. "You are the furthest thing from a heel, HM. You just tend to jump to conclusions before hearing the entire story."

Murdock stood. "My biggest concern is actually _learning_ the entire story. But right now I'm starving, and I can't think on an empty stomach. Let's go get some chow, sugar."

Sydney took the offered hand. "We also need to talk to Haley."

Murdock grimaced. "You heard about that, too, huh?"

Syd nodded.

Murdock's jaw set. "That scares me more than the group therapy."

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 13**

Lewis gazed out the window of the airplane. The clouds had been set ablaze by the sinking sun, glowing a brilliant orange as the eastern horizon darkened to a blue-grey. He was definitely flying toward the blue-grey, at least figuratively. He didn't like it, but he was running into this one blind. There were no records of Smith's Team having any property holdings, friends or even acquaintances in the Portland, Oregon area. So where the hell had they gone?

He had the current coordinates for the phone. He had watched for some time, and it remained stationary at a small airfield just outside of Portland proper. He had a sneaking suspicion that either Haley had ditched the phone, or the Team had found it and ditched it for her.

It wasn't that he was above some old-fashioned foot work to find them, but unless he got lucky, it was going to take time. It would also expose him to scrutiny. He was already getting questioned about why he was on the west coast. He wasn't sure how much longer he could deflect the inquiries. He needed to disappear, soon. But he was reluctant to cut his losses and run while Sydney and Haley were still within reach.

Unfortunately, Sydney was proving to be more of a problem than he had anticipated. With Asher's help, he had hoped to convince her that he was the one she belonged with. Once Sydney started to remember, though, Asher had become too much of a liability. The man had no stomach for any kind of risk.

He was still hoping he could salvage the situation with Sydney, but knew that the longer it took to find her, the less likely that would become. His connection with Haley was tenuous and became more so the longer he lost contact. That damn pilot had always been a pain in his ass, and this time he was proving particularly troublesome.

The seatbelt sign blinked on. The accompanying 'ding' served as a prelude to the shuffle of passengers stowing their things and buckling up in preparation for landing.

Lewis did what any good field agent would do in his situation. He pushed other concerns aside to focus on the immediate objective of finding Sydney and Haley. He could count on his wits and cunning to handle whatever might happen along the way.

Including dealing with the people that stood between him and his objective.

**CHAPTER 13: Chilling Out While Things Heat Up **

Sydney hadn't realized just how many people were in the house until she and Murdock came down for dinner. Murdock introduced her to Maggie Sullivan, who had just arrived, albeit much earlier than expected. Maggie had canceled her appointments for the afternoon so she could make the long drive to the ranch. She said she was anxious to see the Team, who she affectionately referred to as 'her boys.'

Sydney liked Maggie immediately. She noted with interest that Hannibal didn't allow her to wander far from his side. Hannibal had never struck Syd as particularly touchy/feely, but he found reasons with Maggie: a hand on her arm to gain her attention; a touch at the small of her back to guide her to her seat; lips at her ear to whisper a private thought. Sydney was fascinated. Any woman who could capture the independent Colonel's fancy so totally had to be worth getting to know.

Right after overseeing Syd and Maggie's introduction, Murdock latched onto Dr. Richter. She sighed when she noticed the closed look on his face as he apologized to the doctor about his earlier outburst. Richter seemed to recognize that the apology was in words only, too – his expression forgiving but stoic. Apparently, Murdock's faith in the psychologist had been deeply shaken, and though his mind had begun the trek back to trust, his heart really wasn't in it yet.

Amy walked into the house not long after Syd and Murdock came down the stairs. She seemed to be avoiding Face like a plague. Apparently Hannibal's ploy had not worked. Face seemed unusually reserved and quiet, peaking Sydney's curiosity. Every time he looked at Amy, his expression became a little more forlorn. She had to stop herself from laughing at Face's expense. The footloose Lieutenant as a lovesick paramour bordered on hilarious.

Sydney felt herself relax as everyone drifted to their seats around the table. It was like being immersed in a sea of emotion and conflict external to herself. It was nice to allow her mind to contemplate other people and their motivations and problems for awhile, and forget about her own. Then Haley appeared.

Sydney was surprised at the obvious change in attitude of her daughter. She glanced at Murdock almost guiltily, and outright avoided Sydney's attempts to capture her attention. She slinked into the kitchen for her dinner, not even joining them at the table. It made Sydney very curious about what had transpired between Haley and Murdock earlier. She squeezed Murdock's shoulder as she excused herself from the table to follow her daughter into the kitchen.

Haley sat at the little table tucked into the corner of the kitchen, poking at a plate of food, disinterested.

Sydney stood and watched her for several seconds, hands on hips. "Are you going to come out and join us at the table?"

Haley shrugged, making a pattern with the green beans on her plate. "I'm not feeling very sociable." She glanced up at Sydney, her expression unreadable. "Where did all these people come from?"

Sydney glanced back out at the table, her ears pricked at the sound of Amy's voice asking about Haley. Haley didn't seem to be listening which was just as well. "Amy brought Dr. Richter, who is . . . was your, um . . . HM's therapist. Maggie came to collect the samples for the paternity test you requested. I think you know everyone else."

"Oh. I guess that's Ok." Haley's eyes dropped back down to her plate. Sydney was once again distracted by the conversation in the other room. She walked to the counter, tore a couple paper towels off the roll, wadded them into a ball and soaked them in the kitchen sink. She turned, took aim, and let the wad fly out the kitchen door, hitting her target. She smiled in satisfaction then turned to her daughter. "You will come out and join us at the dinner table young lady. After dinner, we'll have a little talk."

Face's voice sounded from the dining room, "Sydney!"

* * *

Amy leaned over and spoke quietly to BA as she watched Sydney disappear into the kitchen, following a girl that Amy had not yet met. "BA, who's that girl?"

"Haley? She's Syd and the crazy man's daughter," BA said matter-of-factly.

Amy gaped at him, and then turned to Murdock, who sat kitty-corner across the table from her. "Ok. I missed a big chunk of the story here, Murdock. You have a daughter? With Sydney?"

Maggie turned to the pilot, gazing across Sydney's empty seat. "_You're_ the one I'm here to do a paternity test for? I thought for sure it was Face – no offense Face . . ."

"None taken."

Murdock glanced at the empty seat next to him, then at Maggie, before raising questioning eyes to his commanding officer, sitting at the head of the table. "I thought you told her . . ."

Hannibal grinned. "She was in the middle of morning appointments when I got hold of her. It was a bare-bones discussion. Besides, it was a bit much to cover over the phone."

Amy shook her head. "How . . . when . . ?"

Murdock shifted and shrugged. "Well, I'm guessing the how is, you know, the normal way. As for when, it was right before the end of the war --"

Face interrupted. "It was probably the day, or rather night before the Bank of Hanoi job. It was the only time they managed to get together without being interrupted by Lew."

"One time?" Maggie was incredulous.

"Actually, based on the aftermath, I'd guess several times. But only the one night." Face grinned wickedly at his friend from his place at the opposite end of the table from Amy.

Something came zinging out of the kitchen and hit Face square in the chest. He grunted and pulled the sopping wad of paper towels away from his shirt. "I can't believe she . . . Sydney!"

Hannibal chuckled. "Serves you right, Face."

"You're all wet, Lieutenant." Sydney was framed in the doorway, her eyebrows arched over a reproachful gaze. "We will discuss some of your more interesting sexual exploits later on. But at least I will have the decency to wait until Haley _isn't_ within earshot."

Face had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry, Syd."

She walked out of the kitchen and retook her seat between Murdock and Maggie. Amy glanced across the table at Maggie, who smiled and said, "I think I like her."

Amy nodded agreement and they both burst out laughing.

*

Haley walked to the doorway and groaned inwardly. The only seat left was next to HM. That was the last place she wanted to sit. She walked hesitantly to the empty chair and set her plate on the table. HM looked up at her. "You want me to trade seats with your mom?"

Haley noted with some relief that he didn't appear to be angry with her, though his gaze wasn't exactly friendly either. She glanced at her mother, whose look told her she better not push her luck. "No, it's alright. I'll sit here."

She slid into the seat, glancing shyly at the distinguished man on her other side. He smiled at her sympathetically. "Hello, Haley. I'm Allen Richter. It's nice to meet you."

She returned the smile. "It's nice to meet you, too." It was a relief to know she had at least one friend at the table.

HM introduced her to Amy and Maggie, who were both very nice. Eventually, even her mother loosened up. Regardless of her misgivings when she first sat down, Haley enjoyed dinner. She hadn't been so sure about all the people, but quickly decided she liked it. The banter around the table was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It had always only been her and her mother. Even when Mom was seeing that Joe, the detective on the Chicago PD, it had only added one to their table. This was more like having a huge extended family.

In fact, she decided it was very cool.

* * *

"Frankie and Face have dishes," Hannibal announced. "The rest of you are on your own. I think Murdock cut enough wood for us to have a fire pit, tonight, and it doesn't look like it's going to get too cold. Enjoy your evening, because tomorrow the real work begins."

Hannibal caught Richter by the arm as everyone was leaving the dining room. "Doctor, I'd like a word."

"Please call me Allen, Colonel."

"Ok, Allen. We need to discuss this proposal of Sydney's. I'm not sure I'm all that enamored of the idea. What's the risk to my men? To Sydney?"

"It's difficult to say for certain."

"Well than how about some conjecture. I want to understand what I'm agreeing to."

As they talked, Hannibal led Richter through the living room and into the study just beyond. He opened the humidor on the desk and offered Richter a cigar, which he accepted. They sat in armchairs, each puffing thoughtfully.

Richter blew a long stream of smoke. "I think the greatest risk is to Ms. Wilson. But honestly, the group therapy setting she has suggested is probably the safest place for her to continue. I think it is obvious she is going to pursue recovery of her memory regardless of my warnings. She is a rather headstrong young woman."

Hannibal chuckled. "Always has been. You know Murdock as well as I do, Allen. It would take a headstrong woman to deal with him effectively."

Allen smiled. "Murdock is a unique individual. I wonder sometimes just where reality and fantasy diverge in the person I've come to know over the years. He's still an enigma to me, Colonel."

"And to me, Doctor. But one that I feel very fortunate to call a friend."

Richter stared at the smoldering tip of his cigar. "I'm not sure I still have that privilege."

Hannibal considered the therapist through narrowed eyes. "If you are sincere about regaining Murdock's trust, then you had better not betray it again. No offense, Doctor, but I think Syd's cutting you a lot of slack. We make it through this group session with her mind intact and my opinion may change. Until then, know that not only is Murdock watching every move you make, but so am I. Don't blow it."

Hannibal stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Richter to think about what he said.

* * *

Sydney led the way into Haley's room and held the door while Haley walked in, followed closely by Murdock. She crossed her arms and faced them. "I have been trying to figure out what to say to make this all better." She waved a hand between the two of them. "Unfortunately, I seem to be fresh out of wisdom to impart. So, I'm just gonna leave you two to work it out yourselves, while I go downstairs and . . . relax by the fire." She turned and walked out, closing the door behind herself.

Murdock felt his jaw drop and had to consciously close his mouth. That was about the last thing he expected. Work it out, huh? He slowly turned to face Haley.

They stared at each other silently for several seconds, before Haley abruptly turned away. When she turned back, she held out his box. "I think everything is in here."

He hesitated, but did reached out and take it from her. It didn't matter how many times it happened, Haley's flip-flops in attitude toward him continued to throw him off-balance. He stared at the box, trying to figure out what to say.

"I'm really sorry about earlier, HM." Haley looked at him steadily. "I don't really think that you . . . you know, did all those horrible things."

He tilted his head and peered at her, trying to decide if she was being sincere, as she shifted from foot to foot, obviously nervous. He really just couldn't tell. He turned and walked to the desk in the room. He set the box on it and stared at it, gathering his thoughts. Finally, Murdock turned, crossed his arms and fixed Haley with a narrow gaze. "Really?"

She took a step toward him. "I was just . . . angry. I'm sorry, really."

Murdock took a deep breath and blew it out. "Ok, I'm invoking the honesty pact. Your mom is right, we gotta get this hashed out, Haley. Quite honestly, I can't take a whole lot more."

"I'm sor –"

"Yeah, you're sorry. You were sorry yesterday, too."

"If it helps, I've apologized to Mom tons of times."

A bark of laughter escaped him. "Maybe, but did you ever accuse her of cold-blooded murder or rape?"

Haley cast her eyes down. "No."

"Alright. So, I'm gonna be straight with you. Did I run drugs? The uncensored truth is 'yes.' I was young and stupid and in way, _way_ over my head."

Haley looked up at him, eyes wide. "Really?" She considered that for a few seconds. "What made you quit? You . . . have quit, right?"

"Yes, a long time ago. I don't touch alcohol anymore, either. It's just better that way. As for why I quit . . ."

Murdock turned and opened the box. He rummaged for a few seconds, then held out a photo of himself and four other men next to a helicopter.

Haley pointed to one of the men in the photo. "Hey, that guy is wearing a jacket just like yours."

"That _is_ my jacket. That guy was my peter pilot. He was killed on an extraction flight – took a round through the side of the chopper. I managed to get him back to base, but he didn't make it."

Haley's face had paled. "How did he make you quit?"

"He's why I quit. Petey was a great kid, gung ho, and naïve as all get out. He was also a boy scout. He said I'd be the best pilot in 'Nam if I'd lay off the drugs. Kept at me about it constantly. The day he was killed . . ." Murdock took a deep breath, swallowing. "I was just coming down when we went in the air. We made the extraction point, no problem, and I was feeling pretty cocky. Then when we lifted off all hell broke loose. I saw the flash of the gunfire, but my evasive maneuvers were just a little too slow. Were the drugs the reason for it? I'll never know, but I can't help but think that they certainly contributed."

Murdock hoped his look passed for stern – lecturing was something new to him. "Just for the record, I learned that drugs are _not_ the way to cope. I ever hear you're doing them I'll turn you over my knee, I don't care how old you are. Understood?"

Haley pursed her lips and nodded. They stood facing each other in silence for several long seconds, both shifting, uneasy.

Haley looked up at him. "What about . . . never mind."

"No, ask away, I want everything out in the open."

"What about the murder the Team was convicted of? Were you involved?"

"The guys didn't kill Morrison. They were in Hanoi. I dropped them off myself." He began pacing. "I wish I could say for sure I didn't have anything to do with it, but I truly don't know. I remember dropping the Team off, and starting back to base to check in at HQ. After that . . .." Murdock shook his head.

"You don't remember?"

"Not a damn thing. I don't even really remember picking the Team back up at the rendezvous, though I know I did. Nope, it's pretty much a blank until several days later, when I woke up in a secured psych facility just outside LA. Locked in a six by six cell."

"That's awful."

Murdock shrugged. "I didn't think so at the time. It was clean, dry, and nobody was trying to shoot me. It was huge improvement over the previous few years."

"Oh." Haley was quiet for a few seconds. "How long?"

"I was in that facility for about a year. They moved me to the VA after my doctor at the time convinced them that I wasn't a danger to myself, or anyone else."

"A whole year in a six by six cell?" Haley looked appalled.

"Yeah, made my accommodations at the VA feel spacious."

They were quiet for several seconds again, though Murdock thought that perhaps the silence was more companionable this time.

"HM, can I ask you a few questions? Nothing . . . bad. I'm just curious about some things in the box."

"Sure, go ahead."

She indicated the box hesitantly. "Do you mind?"

"Be my guest. Not like you haven't seen everything in there."

She lifted the pictures out and set them aside, carefully. She pulled out the Purple Heart medals and set them aside. Then she took out the Silver Star medal. "I know what the Purple Hearts mean, but what did you do to get this one?"

Murdock stared at the Silver Star. He took it from Haley's hands and dropped it back into the box. "Nothing."

"But it says 'For gallantry in action' – that sounds like something?"

He shook his head. "Who knows, Haley? One person's hero is another person's average joe. I didn't do anything any one of us wouldn't have done."

Haley picked up the pile of ribbons. "Ok, then, what about these?"

Murdock grimaced. Hannibal would kill him if he saw how he was keeping his ribbons. "Those are like . . . I guess kind of like a code that we wear on our uniform that basically summarizes our service record."

He picked up two purple ribbons. "Like these represent my two Purple Hearts." He laid them out and picked up a blue and white striped ribbon, with a red strip in the center. "This represents my silver star. Like that."

Haley picked up three solid blue ribbons outlined in gold. "What about these?"

"P.U.C., uh - Presidential unit citations."

"The others –"

"They mean all different things . . ." He picked up ribbons and spoke quickly. "Vietnam Service, Air, POW . . ." He scooped them all up and dropped them in the box. "It's all history, Haley. That's all it is."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I was just curious."

"You didn't upset me, kiddo. It's just . . . it's like wearing your freaking life on your chest. I always hated the damn things."

"So, do you ever wear them anymore?"

"Only if I put on my uniform for some formal event – like a funeral –"

"Or a wedding?"

"Yeah."

Haley looked at him curiously. "What about the ring? It must be pretty important. It's the only thing you picked up."

'That's not in the box."

"But it was. Remember – you invoked the honesty pact." Haley crossed her arms.

Murdock sighed and reached into a pocket, pulling out the ring box. "You mean this one?"

"Is there another one?"

Murdock shook his head and dropped it into the box. He gathered up the other items and added them as well before closing the lid. "Face got that ring for me."

Haley raised an eyebrow. "Are you two like, engaged or something?"

"Very funny."

"Well then, who was it for?"

"Your mother."

Haley nodded, as if she had expected that answer. "It is an engagement ring, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. I never got a chance to ask her, though." He felt a catch in his throat and swallowed. Every time he thought about it, the reminder of 15 lost years nearly overwhelmed him.

Haley's eyes were welled up, too, and Murdock had to look away. The broken sound of her voice nearly did him in. "You . . . were going to ask her to marry you."

"Yes." He cleared his throat and gritted his teeth. "That was before everything went all to hell."

"You would have been my father –"

Murdock chuckled, and took a firm grip on his emotions. "I would have been married to your mother. Biologically-speaking I may still be your father."

Haley blinked and smiled, though Murdock thought he caught a slight quiver of her chin. "True. Maggie's here. Maybe we should go down and get that over with."

Murdock nodded. "After you."

As they started down the stairs, Haley looked back at him, a sly smile on her face, and Murdock's defenses went on high alert. "So, are you moving into Mom's room?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Well . . . uh, I guess that depends on what _you_ are comfortable with."

"What I'm comfortable with didn't seem to matter this afternoon." The smile on Haley's face took some of the sting out of the words.

"Well, that was then . . . and this is now."

Haley shrugged. "I don't know. Do you intend to use that ring in the near future?"

Murdock's jaw dropped, "I, um, well –"

"I'm just wondering. I mean, Mom has always advised me not to engage in pre-marital sex. But I suppose if you intend to marry her, then that's alright." She turned at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent.

Murdock considered Haley for a few seconds before responding. "You are just a tad manipulative, you know that?"

A smile broke across her face, and there was no mistaking the teasing gleam in her eyes. "Mom says the same thing." She turned and bounced out to the deck. Murdock shook his head and followed. She had his head spinning. While he enjoyed a challenge, this was unlike anything he had ever faced before.

Teenaged girls were definitely scary.

* * *

Sydney glanced up from her beer as Haley strolled onto the deck, looking for all intents and purposes as if she hadn't a care in the world. Murdock followed, looking bemused, but happy. She prayed silently that the worst of the drama was over. Knowing Haley, she figured that was a vain hope. At least things seemed to have calmed down, providing a respite, however brief.

Murdock dropped into the empty seat next to her, looking slightly shell-shocked. She touched his arm. "Are you alright?"

"We're fine," Haley answered off-handedly. "Hey, is there any pop in the fridge?"

"Yes, go help yourself," Face said.

Haley headed back toward the house, but stopped in front of Murdock. "Want anything, HM?"

"Hit me with a Dew, kiddo. Thanks."

Haley disappeared into the house.

Murdock didn't look at her, but Sydney knew he was talking to her. "She is a total smart ass, just like her mother."  
Sydney had been taking a long draw on her beer, and snorted it out her nose. She picked up a napkin and wiped her face before turning to Murdock, who was laughing at her. "You _have _to be kidding me. She is so much like you it's disturbing. Talk about a long term nature versus nurture experiment – nature wins hands down. You ask me, the paternity test is a waste. All it's going to do is confirm the obvious."

BA snorted. "She ain't kiddin'. No doubt that girl is the crazy man's."

Hannibal raised his beer. "Here, here!"

"I agree," Face said.

Haley appeared at Murdock's side holding two Mountain Dews and handed him one. "What are you agreeing to?"

They all chorused, "Never mind."

* * *

Allen stood out on the upper veranda at the end of the house. The view was peaceful, the evening breeze fresh and invigorating, but he felt old and useless. He could hear the murmur of voices on the deck below. He knew everyone else in the house was out there, but he wasn't sure he felt welcome. Murdock may have apologized this evening, but Allen could tell that he had not really forgiven. Truthfully, he couldn't blame his patient. He had been a coward two years ago. Losing Murdock's trust was his punishment.

He felt a real connection to Murdock, from the first time he met him. It wasn't long before he realized just what an impression the quirky, intelligent pilot made on everyone around him. Though he never mentioned it to Murdock, he suspected that Lieutenant Peck made a habit of breaking into his home office to check up on Murdock's progress in therapy. There were also the regular phone calls from the General requesting a status of the Captain's ongoing treatment. Yes, Murdock had a lot of people looking out for him.

The General would be wondering why Allen hadn't called, as promised. Though Allen knew the Team was trying to keep a low profile by being in this location, he couldn't imagine that they would deny at least a brief update to an old friend of Murdock's family.

He slipped back into his bedroom through the private veranda entrance. His room was adjacent, but not adjoining, to Sydney's. He opened his bag and rummaged to the bottom, pulling out a small black bag. Inside was a box, with a hand set attached to it by a coiled chord. He took the satellite setup over to the desk and plugged it into the wall; then punched in the telephone code the General had provided. There was quite a bit of static on the line, but very little delay in pickup. The General himself, answered.

*

"Dr. Richter, I was beginning to wonder if you were going to call." General Hunt Stockwell sat in the office of his jet, currently resting on a private air strip just outside of Scappoose, Oregon. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that the A-Team had changed their destination from Crystal Lake. He smiled at the naiveté of Colonel Smith, thinking that he could elude him so easily.

"Sorry, General. It's been a hectic couple days."

"Where are you, Doctor?"

"I'm not really sure, General. Somewhere off US-97 in Oregon. The Team is holed up on a ranch somewhere in the Cascades. It's pretty remote."

Stockwell glanced back at Carla, who was busy triangulating off the doctor's signal. Noise in the satellite relays was causing a delay in the processing. Carla shook her head, indicating she hadn't yet pinpointed the Team's exact location.

"And how is my partner's son fairing, Doctor? Given recent events, I was reluctant to allow him to travel with the Team until I heard that they planned to contact you for help. I trust all is going well?"

"As well as can be expected. Murdock is quite agitated, and there have been some complications in my situation, but hopefully we'll be able to make progress. We'll begin a group session tomorrow with the entire Team, in an attempt to help jog Murdock's and Ms. Wilson's memories. Right now, Murdock seems fine, and I will be keeping a close eye on both him and Ms. Wilson. I really think the risk to Murdock is minimal, but he may remember some things that he has been blocking for over a decade. I am concerned about Ms. Wilson, though."

"Why is that?" Stockwell was becoming agitated himself. It shouldn't take this long for Carla to get a fix on Richter's location.

"I believe Dr. Asher was manipulating Sydney Wilson for years utilizing advanced hypnotherapy. There is no predicting what types of post-hypnotic triggers he may have implanted. We will be walking through a mental mine-field in the young woman's psyche. But she is adamant about pursuing recovery of her memory. I'll do what I can to help her, but I'm very uncomfortable with the entire exercise."

"Do your best, Doctor. I know, as well as you do, how devastating it would be to Captain Murdock if anything were to happen to her."

"Oh, I'm well aware of the connection between them, General." Richter yawned audibly. "I am going to call it a night. I need my rest. I anticipate that tomorrow will be a trying day."

"But hopefully a successful one. Please, keep me posted."

"Good night."

Stockwell hung up the phone and turned to Carla. "Did you get a lock?"

Carla brought a map over to the General's desk, with a red circle centered in the middle of the Cascade mountain range. "I managed to narrow their location to a 100-mile radius. Something seemed to be bouncing the signal periodically, so that I couldn't get any more accurate."

"I would hardly call over thirty one thousand square miles 'narrow,'" Stockwell said derisively.

"The area is actually much smaller than that since we can rule out the coastal areas and the ocean itself." Carla put x's through portions of the circled area.

"Richter said they were in the Cascades somewhere off US-97. He said it was remote, so that rules out the Portland area." Stockwell took Carla's pen and traced the portion of US-97 that ran through the circled area. "See what you can do to modify the algorithm so we can get the area pared down to something manageable the next time the good doctor calls. And have Able 8 file flight plans to at least get us a little closer to our goal – looks like Sisters is a fairly centralized location."

Carla walked out to follow the General's orders, leaving Stockwell to brood over Richter's latest report. Until a year ago, he had called Allen Richter routinely merely to assuage a lingering sense of indebtedness to his dead partner Harley Mathias Murdock. After all, someone had to watch out for Harley's wayward son. But a year ago, he thought perhaps someone was watching out for him. The opportunity to put the A-Team on Stockwell Enterprises payroll was too good to pass up. Now Murdock's and Wilson's pasts were catching up to them, and he was torn about whether to cut his losses and run, or stick it out, and keep a long-ago promise to a man who had saved his life more than once.

In the final analysis duty won. Well, that and the prospect of retaining the A-Team's services. Harley's boy was a pain in the ass, but his talent certainly couldn't be denied. Like father, like son. Stockwell's connection to HM Murdock had definitely proved a windfall for his faltering spy-for-hire organization. Maybe, when all was said and done, he would be able to persuade Murdock and Wilson both to join his organization. That would be a coup. A couple like that working international espionage would be worth their weight in gold.

He just had to find them.

* * * *

**CHAPTER 14: The Sand Man Cometh**

Hannibal stood and stretched. "It's getting late, folks. I think it's time to hit the hay. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Haley was the first to move. She stopped in front of Sydney and Murdock, and sighed. "Mom's out, HM."

Murdock smiled. "I know. She's been asleep for awhile. Don't worry about it, kiddo. I'll get her into bed."

"Ok. Good night, HM."

"G'night, Haley."

"Good night everyone," Haley said with a wave of her hand as she disappeared into the house.

Maggie kissed Hannibal on the cheek. "I'll see you upstairs."

Hannibal nodded. He watched as everyone wandered inside and upstairs. Everyone except Murdock and Sydney.

Murdock was staring at Syd, and something in his expression made Hannibal stop and take a closer look. Syd's face was slack with sleep, her head tilted to one side. She had her long, thick hair pulled back in a head band so her face was clearly visible, without the usual mass of hair obscuring any part of it. Syd had broad facial features, large eyes and a square jaw with a generous mouth that took up half her face when she smiled. Though certainly not a classic beauty, Syd was attractive in a down-home, comfortable way.

Hannibal recalled when he first met her, wondering what the hell the Company was thinking. Call him old fashioned, but a woman in combat seemed like a bad idea. Medical staff was one thing, but a field agent that went into hot zones was something else entirely. He had been very skeptical about their newest contact with the CIA, but it hadn't taken her long to win his admiration and respect. As it turned out, he wasn't the only one to underestimate her. Sydney could enter places and learn things that her male counterparts couldn't – precisely because she was a woman.

Hannibal's attention turned to his pilot, who still stared at Sydney, his eyes fixed and unblinking. "Is something wrong, Murdock?"

He moved closer, and felt his concern mount. Every muscle in his pilot's body was taught, like a wire about to snap . "Murdock!"

Murdock flinched, and slowly turned his eyes to Hannibal, who felt a sinking feeling looking into an all-too-familiar haunted expression. "What is it, Captain?" He spoke sharply, an order, knowing that Murdock tended to act out of habit.

"I saw her that day." Hannibal had to strain to hear Murdock, who squinted as if trying to see something more clearly. "She was . . . bald, kind of, staked to the floor, on her stomach . . . naked . . . bloody." His voice caught on the last words.

Sydney reached out and touched Murdock's arm. Hannibal hadn't even realized she was awake, focused as he was on his obviously-distressed pilot.

Murdock flinched again, and turned toward her. "I'm right here, HM, and I'm fine. It's Ok."

Murdock shook his head, his jaw muscles working, his expression self-loathing. "No, it's not. How could I leave you there like that?"

"You are doing it again, Captain," Sydney kept her tone light and calm, soothing. "You are drawing conclusions on one small snippet of memory."

Sydney looked up at Hannibal and nodded toward the house. Hannibal turned and strode inside. She was right. They would need Richter. Murdock was obviously on the verge of a melt-down. It came on so suddenly.

Inside Hannibal found Face just starting up the stairs. "Lieutenant, get Richter and Maggie down here, now. Murdock is having an episode. I don't want to leave Sydney out there alone for too long."

*

Face didn't ask any questions. He took the remaining steps two at a time. He found Maggie in her robe, in the Colonel's suite. "Hannibal needs you downstairs. Better take your medical bag, and tranquilizers, if you brought them."

Next, he knocked on Richter's door. When there wasn't an immediate answer, he opened the door and walked in. "Doctor, we need you down on the deck. Murdock's having an episode."

Richter threw the covers back and got out of bed, pajamas and hair rumpled from restless sleep. "What happened?"

Face shrugged. "I don't know, but Hannibal looked pretty shook . . ." His attention was diverted by the phone revealed by the light streaming in from the hallway. He walked over and jerked the plug out of the wall. "What the hell are you doing with this?"

Richter turned from putting on a robe. "It's a satellite phone, for making calls."

"No shit," Face ground out. "And who would you be calling?"

Richter hesitated and Face had to check himself to keep from lashing out at the man. They didn't have time for this right now. Murdock was his first priority. He waved a hand at the door, his voice tight. "You better get down there. We'll talk about this later."

Richter disappeared out the door. Face picked up the phone assembly and went to BA's room. The large Sergeant appeared immediately when he knocked. "What's goin' on?"

"We have a couple issues." Face held out the satellite phone assembly. "And something is up with Murdock. I think you should come back downstairs."

BA took the phone, his mouth set in a hard line. "Let's go."

* * *

Sydney was vaguely aware that people were reassembling on the deck. She had swung her legs to the side of the lounge and taken both of Murdock's hands in hers. He finally turned and faced her, his knees jutting up on either side of her, their hands clasped in her lap. "Whatever happened, HM, it isn't your fault. I am certain of that. You have to stop this line of reasoning. It's just self-destructive."

Murdock's breathing was shallow, and he didn't meet her eyes. "I'm just frozen there . . . why . . ."

Richter broke in, his voice calm, but firm. "Look around you, Murdock. What else do you see?"

Murdock's eyes swiveled, seeing things that only he could see. "Morrison." He sucked air, looking even guiltier than before. "He's dead."

Richter didn't allow him time to contemplate the possibilities. "What else do you see?"

"We're in a bunker. No windows. Someone else is here . . ."

"Who is it?"

A few breathless moments passed. Murdock's face cleared marginally, and he looked from Sydney to the other Team members, his gaze finally resting on Hannibal. "I didn't kill Morrison. Lewis did." Murdock's shoulders relaxed.

Sydney's insides were somersaulting and she swallowed to keep from throwing up. If Lewis was there; if he killed Morrison; why the hell hadn't he stepped forward when the Team was first accused? For that matter, why, when he knew about Morrison's orders regarding the Hanoi job, hadn't he stepped forward 15 years ago?

*

Hannibal let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Murdock as Morrison's murderer had always been a possibility, and one that made far too much sense, especially now. But Lewis as the murderer was equally as disturbing. His gaze moved to the petite woman sitting beside his pilot. From the look on her face, he knew she was thinking along the same lines he was. Jeremy Lewis was at least partially responsible for this mess.

He clamped the stub of his cigar between his back teeth and ground them in anger. He had Jeremy Lewis in his sites, and the asshole wasn't going to get away this time. He would make damn sure of that.

Murdock's gaze focused back on Sydney. "What's wrong, Syd?" Hannibal was gratified to see that he seemed to be coming back to himself.

She sucked in air through clenched teeth. "If Lewis was there, why didn't he step forward when the Team was brought up on charges?"

Hannibal grunted. "I'm wondering the same damn thing. Unless he had something to hide."

Sydney nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. "I'm guessing he did." She stood up. "I think I've had about all the remembering I can take for tonight."

Face held up a hand. "We have one other minor problem . . ."

"What is it Lieutenant?" Hannibal asked.

Face turned accusing eyes on Dr. Richter, who stepped forward. "I'm afraid I must have broken protocol. Lieutenant Peck found a satellite phone in my room."

"BA's taking a look at it now." Face's jaw was clenched.

Hannibal flexed his hands. "Damn it. We're slipping. Didn't somebody check the Doctor's bags when he came in?"

"I didn't think about it." Murdock gave Hannibal a guilty look.

Hannibal walked up to Richter, and spoke in a low tone. "Did you call anyone?"

"Only General Stockwell."

"What? How do you know Stockwell?"

"General Hunt Stockwell was concerned about Captain Murdock coming out here with you, and wanted me to provide an update on how he was faring . . ."

Hannibal snorted. "Stockwell was worried . . . about Murdock?"

Richter's brow furrowed. "Well, of course. He's always kept track of his progress over the years . . ."

Murdock launched out of his chair, staring at Richter like he had just sprouted another head. "What do you mean he's tracked my progress _over the years_?"

"Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned that." Richter pursed his lips. "He always asked me to keep his interest in you a secret, but I assumed after you moved out to Langley, that he had told you --"

Hannibal interrupted the Doctor. "Let me get this straight. Stockwell has been following Murdock's case for – how long?"

"General Stockwell contacted me about reviewing the Captain's case 12 years ago. He asked me if I would be willing to take him on as a patient. After meeting you, I agreed. Your case was really quite fascinating."

Sydney shrugged. "Stockwell had shown an interest in you before that, HM. I told you he was the one who requested the op to investigate your activities."

Murdock shook his head. "But why?"

"General Stockwell hasn't spoken to you about this, Murdock?" Richter asked.

"The General barely gives me the time of day. Usually, my presence just irritates him."

"Like you don't do that on purpose." Face smirked, causing Murdock to smile.

Richter sighed. "Well, I don't know that it's my place to tell you. Honestly, I assumed you already knew. Your father was the General's partner, I believe in the CIA, though he has always been rather vague about the details. As I understand, your father saved the General's life more than once. He was killed during a mission, and asked General Stockwell to make sure his family was taken care of."

Hannibal looked at his pilot, whose initial shock slowly dissolved into a sneer, accompanied by a low rumbling in his throat. The rumbling developed into a chuckle which built in intensity until his whole body convulsed with laughter. Sydney put a hand on his shoulder. From her expression Hannibal could tell that she couldn't decide whether to laugh with the pilot, or slap him back to his senses. "Are you Ok?"

Murdock swiped at his face and took a deep breath, trying to get himself under control. "Yeah, yeah. I'm great. Just terrific." He stood up and grinned at Sydney. "I mean, just imagine how fucked up my life would be if the General weren't lookin' out for me!" He dissolved into laughter again.

Hannibal snorted. Murdock always did have a sick sense of humor. At least he could laugh about it. "Well, we may just get a chance to find out from the horses mouth. Since I'm assuming the General triangulated our position off the Doctor's call." Murdock's laughter died in his throat.

BA appeared in the door, a smug smile on his face. "No way. I've checked the signal strength and freak. The jammers and signal bouncers we installed pry didn't work perfect, but I think they kept him from getting a close location. No way the General got nearer'n about 50 square miles."

Hannibal's smile mirrored his Sergeant's. "Nice, BA. Very nice." His gaze became icy as he turned to Richter. "That's strike two, _Allen_. One more and you're out. I _trust_ you understand."

*

Richter gritted his teeth. Every step he took seemed to land on an invisible land mine of information. Who the hell _was_ Stockwell? "I didn't think it would be a problem. It was just one call to someone that I have always believed to be a friend of Murdock's."

"Well you've been misinformed." Hannibal accentuated each point with a jab of his cigar. "Let me straighten you out, Doctor. Whatever Stockwell said his interest is in Murdock, he's no friend of the Team. He's useful at times, but I don't trust him. Any more than I trust you right now. Contact with the General is hereby severed."

Richter watched as Hannibal strode off the deck. Each person who followed cast a wary gaze the doctor's way, and with each, Richter's feeling of isolation increased.

Everyone except Sydney, who was the last to leave the deck. She made a point of patting his arm as she walked by. "They'll get over this, Allen."

"Thank you." He watched as his one ally exited.

He no longer trusted what he thought he knew. No more assumptions about what was right and wrong. If there was any question, whatsoever, he would talk to Hannibal. He had to rebuild that trust. Unfortunately, with the sessions scheduled to start tomorrow morning, he feared it was already too late.

Left alone on the deck, he walked to the railing, and reflected again on the tranquil backdrop to all the turmoil in this house. He turned and looked at the cooling embers of the fire. It was the perfect setting for the difficult task tomorrow. The Team might not trust him, but they felt comfortable and safe here.

Dr. Allen Richter nodded, and hoped beyond hope that _that_ would be enough to ensure success tomorrow. Otherwise, he might be swinging at his final strike.

* * *

Sydney stopped on her way to her own bedroom and tapped on Haley's door. Murdock followed closely, a hand at the small of her back. He was glad to see Syd smile when Haley's head popped out of the room, despite the tension of the last half hour. "What was going on out there? I thought everybody was going to bed?"

Murdock grimaced. His own reactions to recent revelations had been less than . . . sane. He just finally got Haley nodding the right direction; did they need to dispel the illusion of normality so soon?

He wanted to kiss Sydney in gratitude as she answered, "HM remembered a few things. Looks like my partner may have been party to whatever was going on. We'll learn more tomorrow, but for tonight, it's definitely time for sleep." She yawned as if to make her point. Murdock couldn't help himself, he yawned, too.

Haley smiled, and her eyebrows traveled up her forehead. "So, are you both sleeping next door?"

"Yes," Sydney said. "I'm locking the door, but if you need anything, all you have to do is knock. Ok?"

"Ok. Just keep it down, huh?" Haley ducked into her room and closed the door.

Sydney leaned in and talked loudly at the door. "I'm confiscating that collection of Harlequin when we get home, young lady."

Murdock took her elbow and led her next door. "Just be glad she's gotten over the anger phase, Syd. Don't push our luck, huh?"

"I'll push her luck." Sydney muttered as she followed him into the room.

Murdock locked the door and felt himself start to relax. He smiled at Sydney's sour expression. "And she'll push your buttons. And mine."

Syd looked at him, and her face softened. "You're right."

"Of course I am. We should get naked and have wild and passionate sex. That will show her." The truth was, he thought that might be just the ticket for getting to sleep tonight. His mind was stubbornly refusing to shut down, and he needed a distraction.

"We aren't going to _show_ her anything. She obviously already knows far more than she should!"

He pursed his lips. "But will you show me?"

Syd smiled. "Maybe. If you promise _not_ to behave."

Murdock grinned. That was just what he wanted to hear. "You got it, sugar!" He reached forward and cupped her butt.

Syd slipped out of his reach. "First, though, I am going to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. You know, act more like an adult than a hormonal teenager." She disappeared into the bathroom.

Murdock frowned. "That doesn't include putting on pajamas, does it? I mean, that would be a real big waste of time."

"Get ready for bed, Captain."

Murdock stripped down to his shorts. He rummaged in his duffle, which he had brought in the room earlier in the afternoon. He found his toothbrush and joined Sydney in the bathroom. She stood in front of the far bathroom sink wearing cotton bikini underwear and a tank top. He noted with a happy smile that she had discarded her bra. She had finished brushing her teeth and was now washing her face.

He went to the adjacent sink and brushed his teeth. He rinsed his brush and stood up. "All set. How about you?" His eyes traveled down from her wide blue eyes to where drops of water had wetted the front of her tank top, making it tantalizingly translucent. He edged behind her and put his arms around her waist, pressing his hands flat against her stomach and sliding them down the front of her legs.

Sydney picked up a towel and dried her face. Murdock looked up into the mirror and smiled as her hardening nipples became evident through the thin fabric of her shirt. Sliding one hand lower still, Murdock probed between her legs, while his other hand wandered back up under her shirt, cupping one breast in his hand. Sydney's eyes closed, and her lips parted.

He leaned his head down and dropped feathery kisses from her shoulder to her neck, until he could feel the rapid beating of her heart under his lips. His own heart responded in kind, and he shifted to allow his stiffening member to become erect, pressing it against her as he pulled her tighter against himself.

"We need to move this into the bedroom and lock the door." Sydney's voice was breathless as she moved reluctantly out of his embrace and toward the bedroom.

He followed, though the break in contact allowed his mind to re-engage, cooling his desire as disturbing images began to replay. He closed the bathroom and locked the door. He moved into Sydney's arms, allowing her present image to crowd the former memories out of his head. He ran his hands up her back, pulling her against him. He felt resistance, her body refusing to bend to mold itself to his. He pulled back, moving his hands to her shoulders and rubbing muscles that felt like stretched cords. "Whoa, sugar, you are one tense little chicky."

Syd rolled her head. "Guess my back and legs are a little sore and tight. Probably that hike up the ridge."

"Lay down. I'll give you a back rub."

"I won't turn that down." Syd stripped off her top and slipped her panties down and kicked them into the corner before dropping onto the bed. She wriggled into a comfortable position.

Murdock definitely liked the idea of a naked backrub, and obligingly removed his boxers before kneeling on the bed next to Sydney. He ran a hand lightly over her back, noting the silvery scars that were still visible. Images of Sydney staked to the floor threatened to overwhelm him again.

"Are you Ok?" Sydney's voice broke into his thoughts, and scattered the disturbing memories to the wind. He leaned down and kissed her ear. "I'm fine. Are you ready?"

She nodded and closed her eyes. He began kneading her back, focusing on her profile, partially obscured by a mass of honey-colored hair. When he moved up to her shoulders he swung a leg over her back, and centered himself, so he could rub her shoulders and neck without twisting. He could feel Sydney relax under his manipulation, even as he hardened.

By the time he was done with her neck and shoulders, he was fully erect. He placed his hands on her now-relaxed shoulders and leaned down to kiss the back of her neck. He slid his hands along her outstretched arms as he extended his body along hers, his hips sliding just below hers as he enclosed her hands in his own. He had to concentrate to keep himself in check as he began to move forward, his penis slipping between her legs.

*

Pressure, pain, her hands burning in their restraints, she struggled, and suddenly her hands were free. She pulled them under herself, pushing up to get that animal off of her. Sydney scrambled to a sitting position, knees pulled to her chest, blue eyes wide with fear.

"Syd?" a familiar voice reached her from somewhere outside her tunneled vision. She flexed her muscles and was surprised by the lack of pain. She looked down at her wrists, currently clamped like a vice around her knees, and noted that there was no evidence of friction burns. Looking outside herself, she realized that she was in a bedroom.

Her gaze finally fell on Murdock, kneeling in front of her on the bed, brown eyes tight with concern. She took several deep breaths, until it felt like her heart might actually stay where it belonged in her chest. She remembered the offered back rub, and how relaxing it had been having his hands rubbing her tense shoulders. She had actually drifted off to a light sleep. The pressure on her back had been him, not . . . who? She shivered, the memory was vivid, but vague.

Murdock looked stricken. "Sugar, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Sydney mentally chided herself: he didn't need to deal with her problems after this evening. She had to make HM understand that this wasn't his fault. "You didn't hurt me. I just . . . I think the back rub is over."

She cursed at the quiver in her voice. She had to pull it together. She consciously released the grip on her wrists, grimacing at the red imprints of fingers on her skin. She uncoiled and slipped her feet under the covers.

Murdock watched her, his gaze uncertain. Sydney settled her face into what she hoped was a smile, though she couldn't seem to control the slight tremor that still sounded in her voice. "I'm Ok, really. But no more back rub. Just . . . come hold me."

He stood from the bed and turned the lights off before joining her between the sheets. He slid close and folded her into his arms. "What was it, sugar? What did I do wrong?"

Sydney laid her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. She pressed closer to him. "You didn't do anything wrong, HM." Sydney licked dry lips, but was glad to hear the steadiness return to her tone. "I just can't do it that way."

"I'm sorry."

She pulled back and looked into his face. His brow was furrowed, and there was no hint of a smile on his full mouth. She touched his cheek. "It's not your fault." She tried a tease. "Just for the record, I much prefer seeing your face when we're making love."

His gaze was still serious. "You were remembering . . . that day, weren't you?"

"Yes. But I don't want to talk about it now, HM. That's for tomorrow." She swallowed convulsively. "For now, please just hold me."

He drew her down to his chest, and his arms tightened around her. Sydney nestled against him as his lips brushed the top of her head. She took a deep breath, the subtle smell of leather and sweat that was HM filling her lungs. She finally started to truly relax. His long fingers traced soothing circles on her back, lulling her into the place between waking and sleep where she could drift safely in his embrace and forget about the things that haunted her elsewhere.

Sydney slipped into a sleep that was mercifully dreamless.

* * *

Face stood gripping the railing, his knuckles white. He had been headed upstairs to catch a few hours of sleep, and then take over from Hannibal on surveillance before the scene with Murdock. There was no point in heading to bed now. He was too keyed up to sleep.

He heard Hannibal approaching him from behind. The Colonel's flat-footed step was so familiar now that he didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"You're due down here to relieve me at 0200. You better go get some sleep, Lieutenant."

Face made certain his expression and voice were neutral. "I slept too much this afternoon."

Hannibal was silent for a full minute before he spoke again. "Spill it, Face."

Face frowned and considered what it was that was really bothering him. He was worried, frightened even; afraid for his best friend, and for Sydney. "Ok, so the episode with Murdock kinda freaked me out. Is that what you want to hear, Hannibal? It's been years since we've watched him nearly fall apart like that."

The smell of cigar smoke surrounded him as Hannibal leaned on the railing next to him. "There's little doubt why Murdock lost it at the end of the war."

Face shook his head. "But this is way worse than I ever suspected, Hannibal. I mean, we knew . . . or thought we knew Syd was dead, but I always assumed she died like Morrison – in the artillery barrage. Now we know there's way more to it."

"Well, I think it was safe to assume that from the minute a very-alive Sydney Wilson walked through the door, especially given the little bit she's shared about the injuries she woke with in Laos. But I still can't wrap my head around how Sydney's torture and apparent survival, Morrison's murder, and the smuggling ring fit together. I mean, what the hell did Sydney have to do with any of it? She was a field intel agent."

"She suspected Morrison and Curtis were working for the NVA."

"Right, so she does what – confronts them? C'mon, Sydney can be headstrong, but she's far from stupid."

"But she trusted Lewis." Face ground his teeth, remembering how Lewis looked at Sydney in Asher's office: like a carnivore sizing up its prey. "Lewis had to have been involved."

"And he killed Morrison."

"But why kill his partner in crime?"

"For a bigger slice of the pie, maybe?" Hannibal shrugged. "If we can get Syd to remember, _maybe_ we can start weaving these disjointed threads into a coherent tapestry. Until then, it's all conjecture."

Hannibal stood up. "If you're gonna stay up, I'll hit the hay and relieve you at 0200."

Face smirked. "Sure, you have a warm bed waiting for you."

"You could, too, Face. You know that. Talk to her."

"Do I?" Face turned and looked at Hannibal. He wanted to smack that shit-eating grin off his commanding officer's face. But right now, Hannibal wasn't a commanding officer, he was a friend, trying to point out what, to him at least, was an obvious resolution to a problem. "Murdock told you, didn't he?"

Hannibal chuckled. "Actually, it was BA. You know, Face, you've done some real stupid things since I've known you, especially where women are concerned. However, I have to say that this fiasco with Amy was one of your crowning achievements . . . maybe even the end of an era. You slipped up sleeping with her, and letting yourself realize just how you felt. Now it's time you sucked it up and told her the truth."

"She wants to pretend it didn't happen; go back to the way things were."

"Like hell, Lieutenant. Her defenses are only slightly less developed then your own. If one of you doesn't take the first step, things will never go back to the way they were."

Face sighed. "They can't anyway."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "That's true. But if you take that first step, they could get better than they were."

"Or worse."

Hannibal put a hand on Face's shoulder and squeezed; his blue eyes intense. "I never took you for a coward, kid."

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 15**

Ike chuckled. "Well, you were the one that let them leave Virginia. I'd say you underestimated Colonel Smith and his men."

Stockwell grunted audibly. "I doubt we will be able to get any better lock on their position. Based on what Richter said, they are holed up in a remote area of the Cascades. I have the area narrowed, but I think an infrared scan would shorten my search."

"Always after a favor, huh, Stockwell." Ike smiled. He had known Hunt Stockwell for going on 40 years and the man never changed. He started as an opportunistic bastard, and he'd die one. To his credit, he was one of the smartest opportunistic bastards Ike had ever met.

"I thought we were after the same thing here, Cheney."

"Oh, I sincerely doubt that."

"Dammit, if you don't want to lose this cat and mouse game with Lewis, then we better damn well get to the A-Team and Sydney Wilson before he does."

"I think Colonel Smith and his men can handle Lewis. I'm more concerned about making sure he doesn't arrive prematurely and screw up the recovery of Sydney Wilson's memory. That is of the utmost importance."

"It was your call to use Sydney Wilson as bait . . ."

"Relax, Stockwell, you won't be held responsible for what has happened. Besides, I really think this is for the best. Not to mention that it saves the company any kind of inter-agency grief. The FBI wouldn't be happy knowing we pulled in one of their own after _we_ lost her during the war. I've told the higher-ups the same thing. Once Lewis makes a move . . . "

"That is what you keep saying, and we still don't have a lock on Lewis. Your ass is on the line. If this op goes bad, your career is over, my friend."

Ike chuckled. That was what none of them truly understood – not his superiors, and certainly not Stockwell. "Hell, my career should have been over a decade ago."

"Old spies never die, Cheney. They become government consultants."

Ike could almost see the smug smile on Stockwell's face. "This old spy has no desire to become a drain on the government's limited resources."

A prolonged silence on Stockwell's end told Ike he had hit a nerve. But there was one last thing he needed from Stockwell, so he decided a reconciling statement was in order. "We chose different paths, Hunt. You follow yours, I'll follow mine. I do have one last request, though."

"Yes?"

"Lewis is likely going to come looking for you. Don't be too hard to find. And don't be too easy, either."

"That's an official request?"

"It's a request from me."

"Observation without engagement?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you will want to be informed should I encounter Mr. Lewis."

"Yes."

"And what do I get in return?"

"As always, you will receive part of the credit for successfully apprehending him."

"And if he gets away?"

"You weren't involved."

**CHAPTER 15: A Prelude to Remembering**

Awareness came slowly as Sydney clawed her way to consciousness. It had been a long time since she had slept so soundly. Her hand reached forward under the covers, seeking the warmth that had comforted her through the night, but all she found was a cold expanse of sheets.

She opened her eyes, and wondered briefly what time it was. The pre-dawn light of the room washed everything in shades of gray. The darkest shape in her line of sight was the outline of her favorite pilot standing in front of the picture window. He had on a t-shirt and boxers, and his hair was tousled. He stood unmoving, his arms crossed. She couldn't see his expression from here, but just his stance suggested a brooding mood. From the feel of the bed, he had been up for awhile.

She crept up behind him and put her arms around his waist, hoping to startle him out of whatever somber thoughts were running through his mind. She realized immediately that he had heard her coming when he smoothly reached back and pulled her forward into the circle of his arms.

"How long have you been up?" Her voice was muffled against his chest.

He shrugged, but didn't answer. Sydney pulled away and looked up into his face. She sighed. "HM Murdock, stop it."

He looked down at her, his eyes nearly black in the dim light. A half-formed thought about dark eyes reflecting dark thoughts flitted through Sydney's mind. She held his gaze. "What happened 15 years ago was _not _your fault. Please, stop obsessing about it."

The corners of his mouth ticked up, which Sydney took as a good sign until he spoke. "Perhaps not entirely my fault – "

"Not even partially your fault."

"I left you there, with Lewis, still staked to the ground . . . what the hell could have possessed me to do that?"

Sydney stepped out of his arms and put her hands on her hips. She doubted it was intimidating, especially given that she was stark naked, but she had to put space between herself and Murdock if she was going to argue effectively. "Ok, if we're going to play the blame game, that let's take your logic a step further. What the hell could I have been thinking, trusting my partner for the previous 19 months? I was always Lewis' staunchest supporter. Obviously, I'm a moron."

Murdock's shoulders slumped. "Sydney, don't –"

"Don't what? Don't blame myself? Fat chance, buster. If you can wallow in self-loathing, than I might as well join you."

"It's not the same thing. You were his partner. You had to trust him."

"Even when I knew what a sadistic bastard he could be?" Sydney hugged herself to suppress a shiver that ran up her back. The room was cool, but the memories of Lew's tactics when questioning a prisoner were even more bone-chilling. "C'mon, HM. I spent more time with Lewis than anyone else. What does it say about me as an agent that I didn't even suspect what a scum bucket he was?"

Murdock was silent for several long seconds.

Sydney sighed. "See, even _you_ think I was a moron." She pouted, realizing that she felt like one, too.

"You have never been a moron, Syd." Murdock took her arm and pulled her close again. "You had to trust Lewis or you would have been dead. That's what having a partner means. It does make me wonder what the hell the Company was thinking, though."

Sydney snorted. "I'd love to get a gander at Lew's psych profile. I'd bet it was a doozey. Made him pretty damn good at what he did, though. They probably thought they could channel his sadism into productive channels."

"Listen to us, 'they were thinking . . .' like there was some kinda coherent planning behind what the CIA was doing during 'Nam, especially at the end of the war." Murdock shook his head, his face finally relaxing.

"You think they've changed?" Sydney looked up at him and returned his smile, feeling marginally less moronic. She may have been clueless where Lew was concerned, but at least she had shaken Murdock out of self-blame mode.

His expression shifted again, the smile fading to a grim frown. "I'm worried about today, Syd."

"I know it's not going to be pleasant – "

"That's not what I mean. I'm worried about you trying to remember something that might be best left forgotten. And . . ." He took a deep breath. "I've never really talked to the guys about my time in the CIA, and I think that's all gonna have to come out today. I can't help but think it's connected. I don't think it's going to make Hannibal happy."

"I'd bet my life savings Hannibal knows more than you think."

"Maybe." Murdock gazed out the window, his expression once again brooding.

Sydney pulled back, and slid her hands up to his shoulders. "Hey, we're going to spend all day exploring the past. How about, for now, we relax. I'm kind of chilly. Could I entice you to come back to bed with me?" She smiled a promise, as the prospects of Murdock in bed ignited a flame in her core.

Murdock's face relaxed into a warm smile and Sydney was pleased to see the teasing glint return to his eyes. "Now I really would be insane to turn down an offer like that!"

Sydney slipped her fingers under the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head. He chuckled. "Are you in a hurry?"

She grinned and poked a finger into his chest. "You, Captain, are not allowed in my bed with clothing on."

He tripped out of his boxers as he followed her to the bed. "I always obey orders."

A dubious smile quirked Sydney's lips as she dropped onto the bed and looked up at him. "If that were true you wouldn't be here."

"Oh, yeah." He grinned as he dropped onto all-fours on the bed and advanced on her. "I always obey your orders . . . where clothing is concerned."

Sydney raised her eyebrows, sliding back but allowing him to get closer, her smile teasing. "Even if I told you to put some on?"

Murdock growled as he positioned himself over her body. "Ok . . . I always obey your orders where _removing_ clothing is concerned."

"Now _that_ I believe." Sydney's voice dropped an octave as she anticipated the feeling of the lean, and very ready body hovering above her.

He covered her mouth with his as he pushed her gently back onto the bed. Sydney wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sliding her hands down his back and guiding his hips between her legs. He didn't hesitate, and Sydney sighed as he slid into her.

He pressed his lips against her ear. "Am I getting it right this time, sugar?"

He raised his head and she found herself looking up into eyes dark with a passion that echoed in every fiber of her being. "Very right."

A slow smile curved his lips as he began a steady rocking motion. He shifted and slipped even deeper into her, while gradually accelerating the rhythmic motion. She pulled his head down and their lips met in a hungry kiss. His arms slipped under her, his full weight bearing down to add to the force of each movement. Sydney wrapped her arms and legs around him, matching his tempo with her own, each thrust bringing her closer to the brink of reason.

She gasped as the first waves of orgasm rippled through her body. Her fingers bit into his back, pulling him into her deeper than she thought possible. She could feel him enlarge inside her, the mounting pressure a tantalizing prelude to his own release. A primal rumble accompanied his explosive orgasm, and each pulse swelled through her until every sense was overwhelmed by the rapture of release.

As the passion subsided to a delicious closeness, Sydney relaxed her vice-like grip on his body, and Murdock propped himself back up on his elbows, his gaze sliding over her like liquid chocolate. "I think that might get me through the day." His voice was low and thick with a desire that once again kindled the flame in Sydney's core.

"Maybe just one more time, to be sure," she murmured pulling him down for a kiss that promised more of the same.

* * *

Hannibal noticed Face glancing around the people gathered at the table, before turning to him to ask, "Should I wake up Murdock and Syd?" They were the only two inhabitants of the house not yet downstairs.

"They should be down, soon," Haley said. "I heard the shower start just before I left my room."

Hannibal glanced at his watch. "8:30 – Not like Murdock to sleep this late."

"_Assuming_ he's been sleeping," Face muttered.

"I think they've been awake for awhile," Haley offered innocently.

Hannibal decided the conversation would only deteriorate from there, so he let the subject drop. Sydney and Murdock would be down soon, that was sufficient. He glanced down the table at Allen Richter. "So, Dr. Richter, what do you have on our agenda for today?"

Richter looked up from his plate, his gaze thoughtful. "I think we should meet out on the deck, perhaps around 9:30, and begin our first session. I don't want the sessions to last any longer than about an hour each, but we'll play it by ear, depending on how well we're progressing at the time. We'll discuss the ground rules when we get out there. One thing I'd like you to think about is who will be involved." He glanced at Frankie, who sat across the table from him, then down the table to where Haley, Maggie and Amy were clustered. "We have a few . . . extraneous people present, and it is entirely up to the group whether they are included in the sessions or not."

Haley stood, her expression sullen. "I suppose that means I won't be invited." When no one at the table responded, she picked up her dishes and stomped into the kitchen.

Sydney and Murdock walked into the dining room arm in arm a few moments later. Their contentment was almost palpable as they moved as one to a pair of empty seats at the end of the table.

Hannibal hated to dispel their good mood so soon, but it really couldn't be avoided. He looked at Sydney. "Haley wants to know if she can attend our sessions."

She glanced at Murdock, who shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea, especially given the little bit we do know."

"I agree, but it's going to be hard to convince her of that." Sydney suddenly looked very tired.

Murdock's hand covered hers on the table. "We'll talk to her. She may not like it, but I'd bet my life savings she'll understand better than you think."

"Maybe." Sydney smirked, and Murdock shook his head, chuckling. They appeared to be sharing a private joke. It reminded Hannibal of when Murdock, Sydney, and Face had first started hanging out together. The chemistry among the three young people had been undeniable. They were all about the same age, and had seen things kids like them shouldn't have seen. Maybe that was why he had allowed the situation to continue. They seemed to help each other over the rough spots.

Honestly, he hadn't thought much about it, until he noticed that more and more it was Murdock and Sydney he saw together, with Face notably absent. That was when he had stepped in, attempting to squash the budding relationship. A relationship he felt certain could only lead to trouble. If he had known then . . . he smiled wryly to himself. It wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference.

* * *

Amy walked into the kitchen carrying a stack of dishes gathered from the dining room table. She glanced at Haley, who sat at the breakfast nook in the kitchen, staring out at a tiny patio between the back of the house and the shear rock wall. She didn't even turn or acknowledge that Amy had entered the room. Haley's brooding gaze was so reminiscent of Murdock's unguarded moments that Amy had to agree with the consensus from the previous night. The pilot would have a hard time denying the girl.

She began filling the sink with hot water, cursing Hannibal's refusal to join the 21st century and put in a dish washer. She could almost hear him, 'Washing dishes is good team building work. Who needs a dish washer?' She smiled. She had missed Hannibal and his throw-back wisdom. Hell, she had missed all of them, including Face; maybe especially Face.

She just couldn't sort out her feelings about the handsome conman. The indiscretion of a year ago had been a mistake, and one she didn't intend to repeat. But she didn't want to allow it to ruin what had become a very special friendship. She had always subscribed to the common wisdom: never sleep with your friend or you'll ruin the friendship. It was too late now; she could only hope she could salvage the friendship.

"Want some help?" Haley startled Amy out of her introspection.

Amy turned off the water. "Sure. I'll wash, and you can dry?"

"Ok." Haley pulled a towel off the drying racks that swung beside the window. Amy could see a little of her mother in her, in the square face, and overly large eyes and mouth. But her coloring and height must be a clue to her father's identity, and certainly did seem to point to Murdock.

They worked in companionable silence for several minutes, until Sydney walked in, carrying a stack of dirty dishes. She set them on the counter next to Amy. "I'll go get the rest for you."

She returned a couple minutes later with the remaining dishes. "That's all of them."

Amy smiled. "Thanks. Haley's helping me out, since Hannibal thinks dishwashers are a waste of time."

"'Dish washing is a great team building chore,'" Sydney intoned in a female approximation of the Colonel's rich bass.

Amy laughed. "You've heard that one too, huh?"

"Actually, no. But I can imagine it."

Sydney stepped behind her daughter, and Amy was struck by how tall the girl was. She towered over her petite mother by at least six inches. It didn't seem to bother Sydney, who placed a hand on Haley's shoulder to get her attention. "Hannibal said you wanted to know if you could observe the sessions."

Haley shrugged. "I know you won't let me."

"We should at least talk about it Haley. My reason for not allowing you to attend has nothing to do with shutting you out. I just want to make sure you understand that."

Haley flipped the towel over her shoulder, having dried all the dishes in the strainer, and turned to face her mother. "I want to understand, Mom. I want to know what happened as much as you do. Why can't I be there during the discovery process? Why do I have to get the watered-down, second-hand version?"

Sydney hugged herself, her expression guarded. Amy tried to keep busy with the dishes, but she couldn't help her interest in the discussion. Her own curiosity had her burning to learn the truth of what had happened to the Team back in Vietnam, and her connection wasn't even familial. She couldn't blame Haley for wanting to be there.

"If we were talking about normal revelations, say my folks, who you haven't even asked about, by the way; or my childhood in Chicago, I might feel differently. But during the War . . ." Sydney shook her head.

"You mean when you met HM? When you fell in love? How can that be bad, Mom?"

A tentative smile appeared on Sydney's face. "You're right, honey. It wasn't all bad. But sometimes I wonder if the bad didn't outweigh the good; especially considering the outcome. I'm just afraid you're going to hear things that you shouldn't."

"Like the fact that my father might be a scumbag rapist?" Haley sighed theatrically. "I can't imagine anything being worse than that."

"I'm not talking about large sweeping revelations like that, Haley." Sydney's voice was steely, uncompromising. "I'm talking details of torture and rape and sadism. We're going to be discussing the nitty, gritty particulars of what happened during what I'm guessing were likely the worst days of my life. Do you really need to hear that?"

Amy was struck by the brilliant blue of Sydney's world-weary eyes as she held her daughter's naïve, chocolate-eyed gaze. She now understood why Sydney didn't want her young daughter to attend the sessions, and she was having second thoughts about her own planned insistence upon attending. She touched Haley's arm. "I was thinking about taking a hike into the woods around the lake today. It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day. You're welcome to come."

Haley searched her mother's eyes, and seemed to come to a decision. She turned to Amy and nodded. "That sounds nice. Sure you don't mind me tagging along?"

"I'd love to have the company." Amy smiled at the young woman.

"You better go put on some jeans and a good pair of walking shoes if you're going hiking," Sydney said. "I'll help Amy finish up the dishes."

Haley leaned down and kissed her mother on the cheek. "Thanks, Mom. See you in a little bit, Amy."

As Haley jogged out of the kitchen, Amy turned back to the dishes.

"Thank you." Amy turned to find Sydney gazing at her.

"No problem. It'll keep me busy, too – keep us both out of the way."

Sydney's smile seemed tentative as she absently dried the bowl in her hands. "I don't think we really got off on the right foot yesterday. I hope I didn't do or say anything to offend you."

"Of course not." Amy was suddenly nervous. "I was just caught off-guard. Face hadn't mentioned anything about you . . . actually, I had never heard your name before yesterday. It all just seemed so strange. I mean, I know there's a lot about the guys' pasts that I don't know, but I guess meeting you really drove home just how much I still have to learn. I thought after spending a couple years following them around that I knew everything important. But they never mentioned you, especially Murdock. I mean, he was always so easy to talk to, and such an open and honest guy. He may be a little manic at times, but he always seemed like such an open book, you know what I mean?"

Sydney's blue eyes were wide. "Wow. That was quite the dissertation." Her brow furrowed. "They never mentioned me, huh?"

Amy could tell by the expression on Sydney's face that the fact that the guys never talked about her even in passing bothered her. "No, they didn't. And I'm really sorry about that. I tend to ramble when I'm nervous."

Sydney snorted. "I make you nervous?"

Amy glanced at her. "A little. If you worked with the guys in 'Nam you must be pretty . . . competent. I mean, Hannibal is a hard guy to impress."

A burst of laughter escaped Sydney's lips. "Yeah, I never managed it myself. So maybe I'm the one who should be nervous."

The sound of a throat clearing in the kitchen doorway caused both women to turn around. Maggie stood there, grinning at them. "I think you can both rest easy. Hannibal admires both of you. He's just not real good at showing it."

* * * *


	3. Part 3: Remembering: Ch 16 thru 20

**Prologue to Chapter 16**

Lewis had found what he expected in Portland – a discarded cell phone. Smith and his entourage had traveled by van from there, and the trail had gone cold fairly quickly.

That was when it dawned on Lewis: General Hunt Stockwell would never let his money-maker get too far afield. Surely, if he found Stockwell, it would take him a step closer to finding the A-Team, and Sydney. And he knew Stockwell would be fairly easy to find. This late in his career, the old spy was predictable to a fault.

Lewis pulled out binoculars and trained them on the jet sitting on the runway at Sisters Airfield in Oregon. The jet had arrived during the small hours of the morning, so Stockwell was obviously not too far ahead of him in tracking down the A-Team. He needed a direction to go, and he had to get ahead of Stockwell.

He watched as the security detail outside the jet rotated. This occurred every hour on the hour. He had counted three distinctive guards so far. He suspected there was a fourth that he had not yet seen in the rotation. He had been observing for awhile, and it would be awhile longer before he felt comfortable that he had a complete personnel count. Based on what he had learned so far, his best hope to get onto that jet was going to be if the General left, hopefully taking half of his detail with him.

Maybe he could even prompt an excursion, via Cheney –the two men were old friends. He knew he had time to think about that while he continued his surveillance. Maybe he could even find a way to tap into the General's communication system. Yes, there was plenty to occupy his time while he waited for his opportunity to board the jet.

**CHAPTER 16: Tripping Down Memory Lane**

"I'm fine, Hannibal," Murdock said. He stood in front of the Colonel in the study/library/extra room that nobody could agree what to do with once they moved in. Hannibal had taken it over as an office, but knowing the Colonel, Murdock had figured it would see more use as a first floor bedroom, which was what he had argued for. But then again, he'd seen Hannibal take more than one person back here to talk to them in the last day. As usual, Hannibal had made the right decision.

Hannibal opened the humidor on the desk and pulled out a cigar, rolling it between his fingers and smelling it before putting it back. Murdock smirked. "Maggie on your case, again?"

The Colonel shrugged and leaned against the desk. "She picked a hell of a time to take up the cause." He looked up at Murdock. "How's Syd holding up? Sounded like maybe she remembered something last night."

Murdock ground his teeth. That was going to be the hardest part of the day, in his estimation: talking about what had happened to Syd. If he saw Lewis he'd be tempted to tear him apart. Though height-wise they were pretty well matched, Lew had always been stockier and more heavily-muscled than he was, but also much slower. Murdock doubted that 15 years had changed that. All things considered, it would be a pretty even match from a physical standpoint. He figured that gave him the edge, because he was pissed as hell.

"Are you going to answer the question, Captain?"

The Colonel's voice startled Murdock out of his murderous fantasies. He shrugged, trying to make it sound inconsequential. "She had a flash about . . . the rape. It wasn't anything connected, more like a nightmare than a memory."

Murdock shifted under the Colonel's gaze. His ice-blue eyes had always kind of disturbed Murdock. When he looked at him, it felt like he was looking inside him. It worked well as an intimidation tactic with the scumbags they usually dealt with, but it was equally as effective when ensuring that you were getting the whole truth from one of your men.

"Is there something else you want to share, Captain?" It felt more like an order than a request.

Murdock cleared his throat. "Well, it doesn't really have to do with Syd, but . . ." He paused, trying to decide how best to proceed.

"Spit it out."

"I don't know how much you know about what I did when I first arrived in Southeast Asia –"

*

Hannibal could tell Murdock was uncomfortable with the subject.

He opened the humidor again, and this time he pulled the cigar out, bit the end off and lit it. He had a feeling he was going to need it today – Maggie be damned. "If you're worried about the black ops, Murdock, Face was able to unearth enough to let us know that you'd be a good fit with the Team. Other than that, I figured it was none of my business."

Murdock rubbed the back of his neck and started pacing. "Yeah, well, I was recruited by the CIA right outta high school. Didn't have a whole lot going for me other than the fact that I could fly just about anything with wings or rotors, but apparently they weren't too picky at that time."

Hannibal sat down and kicked his feet up onto the desk, a smirk on his face as he considered the man before him. Murdock had one of the most agile intellects he had ever encountered. His flexibility in the field had always been astonishing, from helping Face on a con to helping BA take a rusted bag of bolts and make it air-worthy to taking charge when the rest of the Team was in trouble. It made him a significant asset – something the CIA certainly would be quick to recognize. "Oh, I think the Company has always been pretty picky about their recruits."

Murdock turned to face him, and Hannibal had to consciously stop himself from chuckling at the disbelief reflected there. The pilot was confident in the air, but when it came to his other skills, he was startlingly clueless; almost like it was second nature.

Murdock strode to the chair in front of the desk and took a seat. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, intensity evident in posture and gaze. "You see, Colonel, that wasn't the only time I worked for the CIA."

Hannibal couldn't decide whether to be surprised or not. "What do you mean?"

"You remember that time in '70 when you reported me AWOL?"

"Yeah. I remember." Hannibal's voice was flat. At the time, he had thought he made a huge mistake recruiting Murdock. He'd only been with them for a few months when he disappeared. Then he had been told the pilot was on a special assignment and to back off. He had been pissed. "You were working for the CIA then?"

Murdock's head bobbed side to side. "Kind of. It was an undercover op that was run under a joint taskforce including ATF, CIA, FBI, DEA . . . the usual alphabet soup of government agencies, probably included Army Intel, too, though I wasn't that privy to the overall organization. The trail started state-side, and they needed to know who in-country they could trust. They figured I was a safe bet, since I had left CIA, and wasn't yet entrenched in the Army. They approached me to volunteer and I agreed . . . to help out a friend."

"A friend?" Hannibal dropped his feet to the floor. He couldn't help the derisive note that crept into his tone. When Murdock first appeared, he seemed to be pretty short on friends. The Team had taken him in and he had up and disappeared. Though Murdock had returned to his pilot duties less than a month after his initial disappearance, the absence distanced him from the Team. Hannibal requested the use of his crew more often than not, but the fact that Murdock had taken off voluntarily without a word to Hannibal had placed a hell of wedge between the two men for awhile.

Murdock sat back. "Listen, Hannibal, I know you weren't happy with me at the time. You know how those kind of things went down during the war. I wasn't given a chance to talk to anyone about it. They pulled me out of my bed one night and spirited me to Laos, for Christ's sake. I was warned not to talk about the op, and I took a lot of flack for backing out. I managed to clear Ike's name, which is why I got involved in the first place. Once that was done, I headed straight back to the Team."

"I was never angry at you, Murdock. I was pissed as hell at the manipulative bastards that spirited you away. I finally found someone high enough on the food chain to bitch to. He said he would arrange for you to come home."

Murdock's eyes narrowed. "Who was that?"

"A Peter Quinn. I was never too sure who he worked for, but he seemed to be one of the coordinators of whatever undercover op they had roped you into."

"Quinn? I think he was FBI, but I'm not positive."

Hannibal shrugged. "Anyway, I don't see how it matters now. It's all water long under the bridge."

"Yeah, well I thought the same thing, until . . ." Murdock glanced down at his hands, clasped in front of him. Then he raised his eyes to meet Hannibal's. "Until the trial, when the drug and gun running connection between Morrison, Curtis and Kyeh came out."

"Why didn't you say something then?"

"What could I say? 'Gee, wonder if it was connected to the gun and drug smuggling ring I was asked to investigate during the war.' All I knew about that op was that Ike Cheney was cleared. That was all that mattered to me. The whole thing was so compartmentalized; I doubt I could have learned much more in my position, anyway. During the trial, I tried getting in touch with Ike, but couldn't reach him. He's the only link I even have to the whole mess. I ran into freaking brick walls everywhere I turned. Except for Stockwell."

Hannibal had burned through his cigar in record time, and was left chewing on the stub as he considered what Murdock had just revealed. "Sounds like too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, doesn't it?"

"There's something else . . ." Murdock shifted.

Hannibal's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Before I joined the Team. Right after I started flying for the Army. I . . . I ran drugs. Briefly."

"Face told me. But you were clean when I met you." It was a statement – Hannibal could abide by a lot of things, but drugs weren't one of them. He could smell a drug addict a mile away.

"Yes, I was clean when we met."

"You think it was connected?"

Murdock shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe? Likely even? I was at the bottom of the totem pole at the time, and I thought it was strictly a US operation, but looking back I'm not so sure. I dropped out after my peter pilot was killed during a dust off. I didn't want anything to do with drugs after that. That was the reason I transferred. I sometimes wondered if that wasn't why the task force contacted me to begin with, though they seemed to be ignorant of my previous involvement. Who knows? Like I said, the op was very fragmented, with wholly separate groups working different angles. I'm not even sure who was holding the reigns."

"If anyone was." Hannibal gazed at his pilot. Some of what Murdock had said he already knew, but much of it was news to Hannibal. The fact that Murdock had kept so much from him for so long didn't really surprise him. Part of the reason Hannibal had taken such an interest in Murdock, in the first place, was because of his background in black ops. That kind of training always came with its own baggage. Spy-types usually didn't like talking about their work, and Murdock's first training had been with the CIA. He was well-practiced at holding his tongue about what mattered, no matter how verbose he might become at times. Actually, Hannibal had learned over the years that the more Murdock talked the less information he usually provided. It was a strategy that worked for him.

Murdock leaned forward, his expression begging forgiveness. "Are we Ok, Hannibal?"

Hannibal quirked a smile at the pilot. "You and I have always been fine, Murdock. You haven't told me anything that really surprises me. I just wish I could figure out how it all fits together."

Murdock leaned back with a relieved sigh. But his expression was anything but relaxed. "I think it might help if I get in touch with Ike Cheney. He was there. He knew what was going on, probably far more than I did. He may be able to put at least some of it into context for us."

"Does he still work for the CIA?"

Murdock grimaced. "Last I knew, he still did. But Ike is basically a good person, Colonel. I trust him."

Hannibal nodded, but kept his own thoughts on the subject to himself. Murdock was basically a good person, too. And Hannibal trusted him with his life – had on many occasions. But that didn't mean he always told him everything. He doubted Cheney was any different.

He stood. "Let's see what we're able to reconstruct today. Tonight, we'll decide what our next move should be. I'm tired of playing the mouse in this game."

* * *

Allen Richter waited for the group to gather on the deck. He had left the chairs set up in a loose circle around the fire pit. It was a sunny day, with just a few wispy cirrus clouds to break up the deep blue of the sky. The lake shimmered in the distance like liquid silver. The breeze was pleasant, and whispered through the forested area below the lake. The soothing scent of pine and earth wafted on the breeze, and added the final touch to the serenity of the setting. He hoped the relaxed, outdoor venue would help put them all at ease. That was important if they were to get anywhere with this exercise.

Sydney Wilson was the first to show up, about 20 minutes before the designated time. He was surprised that Murdock wasn't hovering at her side. The connection between the two was almost eerie, and he wondered idly whether it wasn't another manifestation of Murdock's addictive tendencies. He smiled to himself at the thought. The truth was he really wasn't sure where Murdock's real problems and his affected problems diverged. The man was a walking encyclopedia of psychiatric disorders, and Richter suspected that most of them were strictly for show.

Sydney walked to the railing, her fingers beating an erratic pattern on the wood. He followed her gaze out to the path to the lake. There, he could see Amy and Haley, each carrying a back pack. He felt a wave of relief that the girl would not be present for the session.

"How are you feeling today, Ms. Wilson?"

"It's Sydney, Doctor. And to be honest, I'm a little apprehensive."

"Allen, please. And it's natural for you to be apprehensive." He paused, then added, "I am glad to see you convinced your daughter not to attend."

"It would have been difficult to get the Team to be totally open about what was going on if she were here. I think Haley understands that, even if it doesn't make her happy."

"She seems like a very bright young woman."

An amused smile curved Sydney's full lips. "Between you and me, that's because she is her father's daughter."

"No doubt in your mind that she is Captain Murdock's offspring, eh?"

"No doubt whatsoever." Sydney walked to a chair and sat down. Her fingers resumed their irregular tapping on the arms of the chair. "Are you assigning seats?"

"I considered it. What do you think?"

"You're the professional."

"But you know these men better than I do."

"I knew them. A long time ago. Though it doesn't seem they've changed much." Sydney was gazing thoughtfully at the charred remains of the wood in the fire pit.

"People generally don't change their basic character."

"I don't suppose they do." She looked up at Richter. "I guess I'd be inclined to allow everyone to sit, or not sit, where they're comfortable."

Richter walked over and took the seat next to Sydney, sitting on the edge so he could turn toward her. "I'm going to need your cooperation more than just about anyone else here, today, Sydney."

"I know you aren't thrilled with this exercise, Allen. I really do appreciate your help, especially under the circumstances. Whatever you need from me, I'll try to oblige if I can."

"I will be watching you closely, but I need some sign if you begin to feel one of your anxiety attacks coming on. We'll suspend the session so –"

"No."

Richter blinked at her in surprise. "But it could mean an embedded reaction –"

"I'm well aware of that, Allen. It also means that I'm remembering something. Something that Asher, or Lewis, or who knows who else didn't want me to remember. That means that the exercise is doing just what it's supposed to."

"I don't think you fully appreciate the ramifications you may be facing if we move forward after an anxiety attack initiates."

"The most important ramification is that I will remember." Sydney's mouth was set in a stubborn line.

"_Maybe_ you'll remember. There are no guarantees."

"And _maybe_ there will be more severe ramifications than an anxiety attack. It's a gamble I'm willing to take, Allen."

"Let it go, Doctor. Arguing with her isn't going to change her mind." Murdock dropped into the chair on the other side of Sydney, who visibly relaxed with the pilot's proximity, her hands coming to rest in her lap.

Richter turned away from the couple to find Hannibal, who walked to the other side of the fire pit and sat down, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar.

He stood up and appealed to Hannibal, hoping he would have more influence. "Colonel Smith, what do you think our course of action should be if Sydney begins to have an anxiety attack?"

Hannibal's gaze focused behind him, and Sydney's voice was tight as she responded, "It really doesn't matter what Colonel Smith thinks, Allen. He isn't _my_ commanding officer."

Smith's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Nope, I never was. I've tried to bend S.A. Wilson to my will before without much luck. She generally does whatever the hell she wants."

Face had arrived while the exchange was taking place. He sat in the chair Richter had just vacated. "Which invariably is exactly what you _don't_ want her to do."

"Excuse me?" Sydney turned to the conman, while Richter drifted outside the circle of chairs, to better observe the group, hoping that by removing himself from the center, he could get them to relax. The men all appeared to be wary of what they said around him. That wouldn't do at all.

Face crossed his arms. "I didn't stutter. You are the most contrary woman I've ever met."

"And you've met ever so many," Sydney said.

Murdock snorted. "How did you know?"

"Given his track record in 'Nam, I figured he was close to batting a thousand."

"I enjoy female companionship." Face flashed Sydney a cool smile. "Well, most females, present company excluded."

"The feeling is mutual, Face. I'm not your type, anyway."

"No doubt, there. I'm not into women who make it a point to be a pain in the ass."

"You know, I'm not the only pain in the ass sitting here. You have your moments."

Murdock leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "You know, it's been 15 years since I had to referee one of your verbal sparring matches, which as I recall, you both enjoyed a little too much for my taste." He lifted his head and looked at them pointedly. "Personally, I think you're each a pain in the ass in your own right."

Sydney and Face looked at each other, then at the pilot and said in unison. "Look who's talking."

"If you ask me, all of you have your moments, and together you're a major pain in _my_ ass." Hannibal glared at the trio through a haze of cigar smoke. "In 20/20 hindsight, I should have ordered you two to stay the hell away from the little spook from the beginning. We could have avoided a whole lot of trouble. That is assuming, of course, that you followed orders, which wasn't exactly your strong suit."

BA had arrived in the midst of Hannibal's speech, and snorted as he took a seat between Murdock and Hannibal. "Yeah, Hannibal, like it was yours."

Hannibal shrugged, and gave BA a good-natured grin. "Or yours."

BA laughed. "Heck, it wasn't any of our strong suits. I always figured that was how you picked your recruits."

Hannibal's grin disappeared in a blink as he turned to Richter. "Well, Doctor, looks like we're all here. The others are sitting this one out, though I've asked Maggie to stick close, just in case." Richter wondered if that was a veiled warning. He hoped he wouldn't give Dr. Sullivan any need to intervene. "She's manning the kitchen and will check up on us periodically. The floor's yours."

Richter stayed where he was, leaning against the railing beside the group. "I just have a couple ground rules to go over, then I'm turning the floor back over to you." He pulled a ball out of his pocket and tossed it in the air. "First - only the person with the ball talks. When you have the ball, you have the floor. No one should interrupt. If you have something to say while someone else has the ball, stand up, and when that person is ready, they can pass you the ball."

Hannibal raised his hand and Richter held up a hand. "Just a moment, Colonel. It also dawned on me that this format was somewhat different from most group sessions I have run before. If you have a clarifying question for the person speaking, raise your hand and they can acknowledge you when they get to a good place to stop." Richter pointed at Hannibal. "Your question, Colonel?"

"You answered it."

"Second – and this is important if this is going to work. You are sworn to tell the truth. The entire point of this exercise is to get to the truth, but if you don't tell the truth that will be difficult. Everyone clear?"

Hannibal stood up and Richter tossed him the ball. "I just have one thing to add. Murdock came to talk to me before this, and I know some of what he told me came as a surprise to me. I think there are going to be a few of those today. We need to agree not to be judgmental. Today is about gathering information, not about laying blame." His eyes bored into Murdock's. "That includes blaming yourself. Understood?"

Hannibal tossed the ball back to Richter, who was gratified to see all of them nodding in the right direction. That little speech had been best coming from Hannibal, though he did wonder what Murdock and Hannibal had discussed. He decided that was a good place to start.

"Captain Murdock, why don't you start by sharing what you and the Colonel discussed, so we're all on the same page." Richter tossed the ball to Murdock.

During Murdock's monologue, Richter kept a close eye on Sydney. When Murdock mentioned the name of the man he was tasked with investigating, a strange look crossed her face. He stood up and Murdock glanced up at him curiously. He wrapped up his story, and tossed the ball to Richter.

"Sydney, you reacted when Murdock mentioned this friend that he cleared." Richter looked at Murdock, who supplied, "Ike Cheney."

"Do you know him?"

Sydney stood up, and absently caught the ball Richter tossed to her. She looked down at Murdock. "How did you know Cheney?"

Murdock shrugged. "He trained me when I arrived in Southeast Asia – I guess you could say he was my mentor in the CIA."

Sydney paced, muttering 'Cheney' over and over. "I should know that name." Frustration laced her voice.

Face stood up, and Sydney handed him the ball as she paced past him. He put a hand on her arm and stopped her, giving her a sympathetic smile. "I don't know if this will help, but maybe you ran into Cheney when you arrived in-country. He was in charge at the CIA HQ. Honestly, I thought he was just a desk jockey." Sydney dropped into her seat, and he looked over at Hannibal. "Remember, the records I did manage to find regarding Murdock's pre-Army days, I found in Cheney's office."

He tossed the ball to Hannibal, who raised an eyebrow. "You mean the records you so conveniently found lying on his desk? The ones that were incomplete, but complete enough to confirm he was a good fit with the Team? That was a little too fortuitous, if you ask me." He took a step forward, and lobbed the ball back to Face.

Face stepped forward and caught the ball. He nodded. "Those would be the ones. You remember how weird I thought the whole thing was. I think I even told you, it was like Cheney wanted me to find those files. But he was careful not to put out anything sensitive. Just enough to hint at Murdock's black ops training."

BA stood and Face threw him the ball. He turned to Hannibal. "Weren't a secret you was interested in recruiting Howlin' Mad Murdock for our Team at the time. Everybody thought you was nuts – it was all over the motor pool, and you know those guys made the rounds to all the bases. Mebe Cheney found out and wanted to grease the wheels."

BA dropped the ball in Face's outstretched hand. "BA's right. You'd been all over asking about him after that first flight he handled for us. We'd checked all the available Army records, which were pretty sparse. CIA had the interesting stuff, but I'd bet they made sure we didn't see anything _too_ interesting."

Face flipped the ball to Hannibal. "I was a little hesitant about recruiting him based on the little we could find out through the available Army records. That was when Ray heard he'd been with the Company, and you started checking along those lines."

Face took the ball from Hannibal's outstretched hand. "Where did Ray hear that?"

BA took the ball. "Didn't Ray have a contact in Army Intel that told him?"

Murdock reached into the close circle the three men had formed and snatched the ball. "Stockwell was in Army Intel. And he was CIA before that. He probably knew Cheney. And they probably both knew Sydney, just like they both, apparently knew me . . . and my father." Murdock winged the ball over the deck railing toward the lake. "And the damn ball had to go."

Richter chuckled, and four sets of startled eyes turned on him, suddenly wary. He sighed. "I have to agree with you, Captain. Now, if you gentlemen would take a seat, I think Sydney may have something to add."

The men all moved back to their seats. Murdock draped an arm over the back of Sydney's chair. "You Ok, Sugar?"

"If Cheney was at CIA HQ I must have met him when I arrived in 'Nam, like Face said. Doesn't it seem strange that I can't remember him?"

Murdock shrugged. "Yeah, it does seem a little odd."

"Unless he was involved somehow. Maybe Asher blocked memories of Cheney just like he blocked memories of what happened."

Murdock's gaze was skeptical. "But that seems strange, too. It's not like you don't remember . . . Lewis for example. You just don't remember that day."

"But initially I didn't remember _anything_. Now most of the memories have returned, but for some reason, I can't remember what happened the day of the Hanoi job, and my mind is a total blank where Cheney is concerned, though I must have encountered him when I arrived in country. The omission leads me to believe that it's significant."

Hannibal pulled a cigar out of the stash in his shirt pocket. "The logic is there. But should we take that to mean Cheney's in league with Lewis? And if he is, does that mean Stockwell's involved, too? Or could it mean that Lewis and croney's didn't want you remembering Cheney because he's someone who could help you?"

The group fell silent, each person lost in private thoughts. Maggie strode out on deck. "Well, I know you haven't been out here long, but this looks like a good time to see if anyone would care for a drink or maybe a snack."

* * * *

**CHAPTER 17: History or Hypothesis**

After a brief break, they gathered on the deck again. Richter cleared his throat. "I'm going to make a suggestion, and this is just a suggestion. It might be helpful if you picked a place in time – say the day before the Hanoi job – and each walked through the events systematically. Something one person remembers may trigger a memory for someone else."

"It's worth a try," Hannibal said. "Where should we start? Day before the Hanoi job?"

"The time frame was just a suggestion. It depends on what specific information you are trying to recover," Richter said.

Face leaned forward. "We've been through Murdock's early time with the CIA, at least in broad terms. What about Sydney's? Maybe if she walks through what led to her assignment to investigate Murdock, she'll remember her connection to Cheney."

"What do you think, Sydney?" Hannibal looked at her. "You said Murdock was your first assignment when you arrived in 'Nam. Murdock said the task force started state-side. Assuming there's a connection there, maybe you could start with your training state-side, and what led to your assignment to Vietnam, and go forward from there."

Sydney nodded and systematically walked them from the time of her training at Quantico, to initial assignment to special services in Vietnam. She continued with her arrival in Vietnam in April 1970.

Sydney ran her hands back through her hair. "I spent my first day trying to make HQ understand that I was an agent, and not someone new for the secretarial pool. Through some paperwork screw-up, they were expecting a Sid, S-I-D, Wilson of the male persuasion. It was freaking hot, and they shoved me into a bunk house with half a dozen secretaries. I didn't get the mess sorted out until the next day when I went to see . . ." Sydney shook her head, her brow furrowed. "Damn, it's there, like when you have a name you can almost remember but the harder you try to remember it, the more you know you won't."

"Where did you go to talk to this person?" Richter asked.

"I think it was the main office. He was like a CO, though that wasn't his title . . ."

"Coordinator of Special Project," Murdock offered. "That was Cheney's title when I investigated him."

Sydney closed her eyes. "What did Cheney look like?"

"Five-eight, stocky, muscular, steel-gray eyes set in a square face. Probably his most notable feature was his hair. It was sandy colored, and stuck up all over the place, especially when it got long. They called him –"

"Einstein."

Murdock grinned at her. "Yeah, they called him Einstein. One time he even grew the mustache. It was kind of eerie how much he resembled that famous photo of Albert."

Syd opened her eyes, a slight smile on her face. "He's connected to Stockwell. He wasn't my main contact, though. That was . . ." She snapped her fingers. "Peter Quinn. He offered my services for a side assignment that they thought I'd be perfect for."

Face snorted. "A pretty girl who could sing. Anybody that knew anything about Murdock would know you'd catch his eye."

Syd nodded. "It was a short assignment, though. It didn't take a genius to figure out Murdock wasn't involved in drugs. He drank like a fish, but he never touched drugs."

Murdock grimaced. "You even tried to hook me up with some pusher."

Syd laughed. "Oh, I remember that night well. A two-hour lecture about the hazards of drug use. I talked to Quinn the next day and told him the investigation was a dead end. No way were you involved in a drug smuggling ring. That was when I was offered a follow-up assignment at the same base."

"That was when the show moved on and you left," Murdock said. "I remember Face came and told me shortly after that that he found out you weren't a USO show girl. By then I figured it didn't matter, since you were already gone. Then you showed up again, less than a week later."

"I was called in for a mission briefing . . ." Sydney's blue eyes were focused a decade and a half in the past. "Quinn was there; so were Cheney and Stockwell and a bunch of other suits. They must have been part of the same task force you were involved in, HM."

"Possibly."

Sydney's brows knitted in concentration. "I was assigned to investigate the alpha teams at your base for involvement in drug and gun smuggling. I was going . . . undercover as Lew's partner? But he wasn't involved in the investigation. He wasn't under suspicion but he was to be kept in the dark about my assignment. Cheney was concerned that he'd been working with Morrison too long to remain impartial in an investigation."

"But if you were investigating the alpha teams, that would have included us," Face said.

Sydney's eyes narrowed. "Cheney pulled me aside and told me your Team was probably clear. In fact, he thought it unlikely that either of Morrison's Teams were involved. As it turned out, I think he was right. But, I had begun to suspect that Morrison and Curtis, themselves, were running something bigger than was originally alleged." Sydney stood, hands on hips, fingers tapping in an irregular pattern on her hips as she began to pace. "It's fuzzy, I can't remember any details. Why not?"

Richter watched Sydney with concern. "Maybe it's one of the things Asher blocked. You're agitated. Are you feeling anxious?"

"I'm fine," Sydney snapped, without breaking stride.

Murdock put a stilling hand on her arm as she came near him, and pulled her into the chair. "When we talked the night before the Hanoi job, all you had were a bunch of disjointed clues and your own speculation about what they meant."

She took a deep breath and blew it out. "You're probably right. I don't remember details, because I didn't have any, yet, just conjecture. That was my problem. It was why I was still there."

"It does sound like they had narrowed it to our base," Face said.

Sydney shook her head. "I think there were other agents, like me, investigating undercover at other bases. I wasn't alone in the assignment. Unfortunately, before we could get the goods on anyone, the end of the war must have intruded."

Hannibal nodded. "And Morrison was killed – by Lewis. Curtis managed to slink into the shadows, assumed dead in the shelling, and the entire investigation ended with the end of the war. The Hanoi job was dumped in our laps, and the actual smuggling ring . . ."

"Remained intact." Sydney's eyes flashed. "Lewis and Curtis remained in place to handle the US side of the operation, sharing a larger slice of the pie, since Morrison had been eliminated, and Kyeh still had his connections in Southeast Asia."

Face sat forward. "During the trial we learned Kyeh had been given a new identity when he rolled over on several of the US personnel on his payroll, but he conveniently forgot to mention Curtis and Lewis, thus keeping his lucrative pipeline open."

Hannibal ground his teeth. "And when we went on trial last year, Curtis and Kyeh were sacrificed. But I'm betting Lewis has kept the pipeline open. He's well-positioned for it given his job at the CIA."

"Could Lewis handle both sides of the supply chain?" Sydney looked doubtful.

"It does seem pretty unlikely that he's working alone," Face said.

Murdock looked at Hannibal. "Can we call Cheney now?"

"But we don't have any proof that Lewis was involved, then; or is still involved, now. It's all just speculation," Sydney said. "And we don't know who he might be working with. Cheney, Stockwell, Quinn, they were all there. Any one of them could be involved."

"Or none of them." Murdock's mouth was set in a stubborn line. "I trust Cheney."

"Until we know more, I don't trust anyone but the people sitting right here," Hannibal said.

Murdock sat forward. "But I saw _Lewis_ kill Morrison. That's got to mean something."

Hannibal shook his head. "You left Sydney there with Lewis, Murdock. You must have thought he was on the right side of the equation at the time. Not only that, but I would bet, confronted with an accusation, Lewis would just turn it back on you. It's your word against his, and no offense, Captain, but the word of a former psychiatric patient isn't going to carry much weight. Sydney's right. We don't have any proof that Lewis was involved in a smuggling ring. For all we know, he killed Morrison because of what he did to Sydney."

Murdock slumped back. "I suppose that's true."

Syd crossed her arms, determination flashing in her wide, blue eyes. "I have to remember what happened after I went to see Lewis that day. That's the key to proving his involvement."

"And that's a damn good reason to want you dead." Murdock's arm dropped around Sydney's shoulders.

"But it begs the question: Why didn't he kill me sometime during the last 15 years? That's a hell of a liability to leave flapping in the breeze."

Murdock's jaw tightened, but it was Face who spoke. "Because Lewis was obsessed with you, Syd, and probably still is. As long as Asher could keep you in the dark, you were safe. Once that changed, Lewis' objectives shifted. Asher became a liability, so he killed him. And now, you're just another liability."

Hannibal nodded. "But first he has to find her."

Sydney stood and started her pacing again, hands on hips, fingers drumming faster then before. "I'm less worried about that than figuring out how the hell to link this to Lewis, once and for all."

"You would be," Face said.

Sydney wrinkled her nose at the Lieutenant.

Richter stepped forward. "I think this might be a good time to take a break, and maybe take this back up after lunch."

"I think we should continue," Sydney said.

"You would."

"You are such a scintillating conversationalist, Face."

Hannibal watched Sydney for a few moments before nodding. "I'm on Dr. Richter's side with this one. If we're going to start getting into the details of what happened leading up to the Hanoi job, we all need to take a break and prepare. This is not going to be a pleasant trip down memory lane."

"But –"

"No 'but's S.A. Wilson." Hannibal's voice was uncompromising. "It's only about an hour until lunch, anyway. It's a beautiful day for a swim. Why don't you all head down to the lake, and Maggie and I will bring down a picnic lunch."

Murdock stood and stopped Sydney by hooking an arm around her waist. "C'mon, sugar. A swim sounds good. Though the lake is kinda cold."

Sydney's shoulders relaxed as she looked at the pilot, a reluctant smile curving her lips. "But I didn't bring a bathing suit."

Murdock grinned. "We could go skinny dipping."

Face grimaced. "Nobody wants to see your skinny ass, Murdock."

Richter was glad to see that Murdock's teasing had worked the necessary medicine on Sydney's agitation. Her grin matched Murdock's as she turned to Face and said, "Speak for yourself."

"Shorts work just as well." Hannibal seemed to be trying for a disapproving tone, but it came across as amused. "Remember, we do have an impressionable teenager amongst us."

* * *

Face was already in the water when he heard Sydney and Murdock coming down path. They were arguing about Sydney's choice of clothing for swimming, and he had to stifle a laugh.

"Just drop it, Murdock." Sydney had to be irritated with him to call him Murdock. "I'm not taking off the t-shirt."

"I'm just sayin' that the shorts and sports bra already cover up way more than most bikinis –"

"And I don't usually wear bikinis, either." Sydney draped her towel over one of the dock pilings and kicked off her shoes.

"I'm wasting my breath here, aren't I?" Murdock frowned at her. "Guess that means skinny dipping is totally out of the question. I can't believe you'd lead me on like that."

Face snorted. "She led you on for months, Murdock. At least now you're getting some. Don't knock it."

Sydney ran to the end of the deck and did a cannon ball, landing right next to Face who took the full brunt of the splash in his face. She surfaced a moment later, and looked far too satisfied with herself at his spluttering.

He glared at her. "That was uncalled for!"

Sydney grinned at him. She rolled to her back and gave a sharp kick, splashing Face again, as she began a strong back stroke out into the lake. Face shook the water out of his face, and took off after her with thoughts of revenge.

He was a strong swimmer, but Sydney was no slouch, especially once she flipped over and started a breast stroke. He had to push it to close the gap between them, but he finally caught her foot, and pulled her back towards him. She ducked under the water and almost slipped his grasp. But he followed her down, and got close enough to grasp her around the waist. They both came up gasping for air as they treaded water awkwardly.

"Face, let me go." She growled at him.

He grinned at her. "Gladly." He let her go, but kept a grip on the lower part of her shirt. "Just give me the t-shirt."

"Face . . ." Sydney glared at him.

"I'm not above taking it." He raised an eyebrow.

Syd considered her position for a few seconds. "Fine."

She raised her hands above her head as she went under, leaving Face holding the t-shirt. But she didn't resurface.

Face looked around nervously. He knew Sydney well enough to know she was plotting her own revenge; and she was a much stronger swimmer then he had first thought.

"Syd?" He couldn't see where she was. He turned and swam back toward the dock. Sydney surfaced on the other side of the lake, just as he tossed the t-shirt up to Murdock, who still stood on the dock.

Murdock held up the shirt, and grinned. "How'd you do that?"

"You know, I just have a way with women."

Murdock draped the t-shirt over another piling. "I have to admit. It disturbs me that you could get her out of her t-shirt when I couldn't."

Face laughed. "Look at it this way, Murdock. I got her out of her t-shirt, but you've had her out of everything."

"Wouldn't mind that, either," Murdock said thoughtfully.

"I could go try, if you want . . ."

Murdock looked at his friend. "You sound just a little too willing, Face." He dived into the water and Face took a deep breath in anticipation, just in time to be pulled under the water.

* * *

Sydney lay on the dock, soaking up the warmth of the sun. It was slowly thawing the chill that had seeped into her body from being in the lake, even with the exercise of fending off attacks from both Face and Murdock, who continued to goof off out in the water. She took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, and sighed. Hannibal had been right.

She sat up when she heard Murdock yell something about his swimming trunks being off limits. Even cinched as tight as they would go, they tended to ride down on his narrow hips. She cupped a hand around her mouth. "I didn't hear you complain when I pulled them down."

A cascade of water arched up over the side of the dock and doused her. She stood up, dripping, and glared down at the two men treading water just below her.

Murdock grinned at her. "Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you were up there." Face held up his hands in a show of innocence.

"Ah, you guys went swimming?" The voice of a disappointed 14-year-old reached them as Haley and Amy appeared, coming around the near side of the lake.

They made their way to the dock. Both looked sweaty and tired. Amy dropped her pack by the bench, and walked out on the dock. "Haley and I decided to beat it back here to eat lunch. Flies don't make good dining companions."

Face pulled himself up so his forearms rested on the dock. "You should both get your suits on and come join us. The water's great."

Sydney put a foot on Face's head and pushed him back into the water. "He lies. The water is flipping cold. But the swim is refreshing. If you can avoid the Marx Brothers." Another wave of water hit Sydney from below, catching Amy and Haley too.

"Actually, that felt pretty good." Amy said. "I don't know about Haley, but I worked up a sweat. And all I can smell is Deep Woods Off."

"I don't have a swimsuit." Haley eyed her mother's outfit. "Suppose I could find something . . ."

"I have a couple swimsuits, Haley. They're both two pieces. They'd probably fit well enough."

Haley grinned. "What are we waiting for?"

Sydney watched until Amy and Haley disappeared up the path to the house. Then turned and sat at the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the side. Murdock and Face were now racing to the far side of the lake, she suspected to keep from turning into big human ice cubes. She laid back on her towel and closed her eyes, allowing herself to doze off.

She woke when Murdock pulled himself up onto the dock and slid next to her. "Ames and Haley gonna come swimming?"

"Yep."

He bent his head and kissed her shoulder. "Mmm, you're warm." He moved closer, slipped a cold hand around her waist and leaned in for a kiss. His cool touch sent a shiver up Sydney's spine as she met his lips and wrapped her warm arms around his chilly neck.

"Get a room." Face blocked the sun and dripped on them.

Sydney squinted up at him. "You're just jealous."

Face flashed a rueful smile. "I always was . . . a little." He walked to the end of the dock and leaned on a piling.

Haley appeared at the bottom of the path, breathless from running. She tripped out of her flip flops on the run, and cannon-balled off the end of the dock with a happy screech, splashing Face in the process. "Jesus, she's as bad as you, Murdock!"

"Was she wearin' a bikini?" Murdock sat stiffly next to Sydney.

"She borrowed one of Amy's suits," Sydney said.

Amy appeared at a more leisurely pace a couple minutes later. She dropped her towel on the bench and walked onto the dock. Murdock looked up at her. "Ames, you do realize that Haley is only 14."

"Yes, Murdock, I know that."

"Well then why is she wearin' a bikini?"

Sydney pursed her lips. "You wanted me to wear a bikini."

"That is entirely different," Murdock muttered.

She exchanged a glance with Amy, who chuckled. "She's a pretty girl, Murdock."

Face was grinning. "Better make sure you keep the guns loaded, buddy."

Murdock stood up. "You're my backup, Faceman – you keep 'em loaded and I empty 'em . . . into any horny boy tries to get near my girl."

Face's look was thoughtful. He grabbed the t-shirt he had scammed off Syd earlier and held it up. "Can't be too careful. Gonna help me cover her up?"

"Last one in is a flightless dodo bird." As he was talking, Murdock ran to the end of the dock, and leapt into the water, catching Face's arm during launch and pulling him in after.

Amy laughed and looked at Sydney. "He's gonna have a tough time raising a teenaged daughter."

"Hell, I'm just glad I don't have to go it alone anymore."

Amy watched the three out in the lake for a few moments, then sat down next to Sydney. "You make Murdock very happy."

"It's mutual." Sydney glanced sideways at Amy. "What about you and Face?"

Amy stiffened. "We're just friends."

"Oh." Sydney weighed the hazards of pushing the subject. She didn't know Amy that well, but she knew Face. He was usually predictable where women were concerned, and she thought his reticent behavior toward Amy was very telling. She wondered if the same weren't true of Amy. Sydney decided to press ahead. "That's what I told myself about Murdock, too."

Amy turned a surprised expression toward her. "What?"

"Yeah, I knew Murdock a year before I admitted to myself that I had deeper feelings for him. It took almost losing him to realize that I loved him."

It took a few moments before Amy could gather her thoughts enough to respond, which Sydney took as a sign that she had hit the nail on the head. "Well, it's not like that with Face and me. We're just friends.

"Sorry. It's just that you really seem to have gotten to him. Of course I haven't been around him for awhile. Maybe he's changed. But I've never seen Face actually pine after a woman before." Sydney shook her head. She seriously doubted Face had changed substantially. Like Richter said, most people didn't.

"Really? You think . . ." Amy stopped, flustered. "Face is not pining after me!"

"Yeah, he is."

"You know, I think you're being a little presumptuous. I mean you barely know me. And you haven't been around Face in quite awhile. Don't you think there's a chance you could be misreading the situation?"

Sydney shrugged and stood. "I'm joining them for one last dip before Hannibal and Maggie come down with lunch. Want to come?"

Amy's mouth hung open, and Sydney smiled at her mildly. She vowed to have a talk with Face. For a war hero, the man was a total coward.

She ran and jumped off the end of the dock with a yowl.

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 18**

Ike walked through the security check station and headed to the car rental office. He carried his duffle, having packed optimistically for a two-day stay, at most, on the west coast. After talking to Stockwell, he had come to the reluctant conclusion that he would have to make the trip out here.

Though he hadn't shared the information with Stockwell, yet, he had run the infrared scan the General requested. Of course, Stockwell had been right. Ike knew where Smith and his men were, now. He was going to join Stockwell at Sisters and hoped that when Lewis saw him there, as he was sure he would, it would push him into making a move. He desperately wanted Lewis to make a move. He wanted this fiasco over, so he could get on with his life.

He was ready for a nice, cushy retirement.

**CHAPTER 18: Back to the Past**

All too soon the break was over. After lunch, the Team and Sydney left Maggie, Amy, Haley and Frankie down at the lake while they headed back up to the house to change and reconvene on the deck. Once again, Richter watched as Sydney was the first to arrive.

"How was the water?" He asked.

"Cold. Refreshing." Sydney dropped into the same chair she had selected in the morning. "You should have joined us, Allen."

Richter smiled thinly. "I doubt that everyone would be as welcoming as you are."

"Give them time, Allen. They'll come around."

"Who's the therapist, here?" Richter smiled at her.

Sydney's expression turn inward as the silence between them grew. Her fingers beat an erratic, staccato pattern on her knees, and he watched in fascination. Drumming fingers was a common nervous habit, but this was different – almost as if her fingers were moving over typewriter keys.

Richter decided to see if the odd nervous habit continued when he distracted her from her thoughts. "So, how did you make it down here ahead of Murdock?"

Sydney's fingers slowed, but continued their odd drumming, still no discernable pattern. "He and Haley started a mud fight, and the mud wouldn't wash off in the lake. He had to resort to a shower and scrubbing."

As if on cue, the pilot breezed out onto the patio and dropped into the chair next to Sydney. Her hands stilled at once, and she smiled at him. "All clean?"

"Got the worst of it off," Murdock said.

Sydney turned and looked at his profile, then started laughing. "You missed your ears."

Murdock stuck a finger in his ear, and grimaced at the mud evident there. He turned accusing eyes on Sydney. "I told you ya shoulda joined me. You coulda made sure I got all my dirty spots."

Face strolled out on deck as Sydney shook her head. "Yeah, I'm sure that's what you were thinking."

"You just would have been late getting back out here, Murdock." Face said as he sat down on Sydney's other side. "Sydney did you a favor."

"Like she did you a favor, giving you her t-shirt?" Murdock raised his eyebrows at his friend.

"That was more like coercion," Sydney corrected. "I did notice he made himself scarce after Amy showed up on the dock."

Face sat up. "What?"

Sydney smirked at him. "Don't be thick, Face. I've never seen you so hung up on a woman. Granted, I haven't seen you in 15 years, but that's irrelevant. Amy Allen got to you."

"Drop it, Syd," Face growled.

"You can be such a chicken shit." Sydney crossed her arms, and gazed unblinking at the tense Lieutenant. "Brave man, can take on a band of armed mercenaries, but slinks away from a woman he's fallen for? Show some back bone in your personal life, Face. I know you have one."

"I said, drop it, Sydney."

"Deny it, Templeton. Tell me you don't care about her, and I'll drop it like a hot potato."

"Of course I care about her . . ."

"Tell me you don't love her."

"You're pushing, Sydney . . ."

"For your own good."

They stared at each other for several seconds. Face stood abruptly and moved to the railing, his back turned resolutely toward his antagonist. Sydney sat back, a satisfied smile on her face. Richter shook his head. He had a feeling there was an interesting story behind that relationship. Murdock leaned in and he and Sydney exchanged words under their breath, too quiet for Richter to make out anything other than Face's and Amy's names.

BA strode out onto the deck and dropped into his chair.

Murdock grinned at him. "Hey, big guy. We missed you down at the lake."

Massive arms crossed, BA grunted. "Unlike some people, I had work to do. I recalibrated all the signal jammers using the Doc's satellite setup."

Hannibal emerged from the house in time to hear BA's statement. "How did that go?"

"Good. Nobody gettin' a call out now, 'less we want 'em to."

Hannibal nodded in approval as he took a seat. He turned to Richter. "Alright, let's get this show on the road."

"I am going to be here strictly to observe. When we left before lunch you were planning to begin reviewing the events of the day of the Bank of Hanoi job. This is your show, how do you wish to proceed?"

Hannibal took a long, thoughtful look at his pilot and the petite woman sitting next to him. "Sydney, you said you managed to remember some more of what happened after you left Murdock that morning. Why don't you walk us through it."

"Ok." Sydney's eyes tightened as she related the events she recalled after leaving Murdock the morning of January 27, 1972. Murdock had a hand lying on Sydney's knee, and her fingers were locked around it as she rehashed what she had recalled during her hiatus on the ridge.

Hannibal's brow furrowed. "So, Morrison, Kyeh, and third man were in the hootch? You said the voice was familiar. Can you narrow down where you might have heard it before?"

Sydney shook her head slowly. "I know it was someone I met after I arrived in country, but it couldn't have been anyone I had routine contact with, or I would be able to put a face with it. I just don't know."

"Ok, so you talked to Lewis, and he wanted to know what you had told Murdock. If we go under the assumption that Lewis was involved, he is probably the one who took you to the bunker where Murdock found you. Does that help you get past the block?" Hannibal asked.

The silence stretched as Sydney muttered to herself. Her fingers began their nervous tapping, and Murdock put a protective arm around her shoulders. "It's Ok, sugar."

Sydney shot to her feet and began pacing. "No, it's not."

Richter stepped forward, and guided the agitated woman back to her seat. "You need to relax, Sydney. Tension is going to make it harder for you to remember, not easier."

Murdock covered her hands with one of his, stilling the drumming, at least temporarily. Sydney relaxed back into the chair, though her face remained tight.

"Maybe it would help if you recreated what happened when you returned to based after you dropped us off, Murdock." Face offered this suggestion reluctantly, looking at his friend with concern.

"I don't . . . know . . ." Murdock rubbed the back of his neck.

Richter pulled a chair up in front of the pilot. "Listen, Murdock, this is no different then our sessions at the VA. You need to relax, and let the memories come. Sydney is sitting right beside you. Whatever you remember, that isn't going to change. You're both safe here."

Murdock took a deep breath and nodded.

"Let's start with the drop off," Richter suggested.

"You remember, Murdock." Face's voice was calm, soothing. "We landed at that LZ you identified just outside Hanoi. We were flying that junker that the Army had recovered from the North, and you pissed and moaned all the way to the LZ."

Murdock chuckled. "That bucket of bolts was barely air-worthy, but it did get us there, didn't it?" He smiled at his friend, then his gaze turned inward. "I lifted off as soon as the guys were clear. There was a lot of enemy activity, all the way back to base, and I took a few rounds, which in that rust bucket was the last straw. The maintenance sarge thought I was nuts . . ."

_January 27, 1972 approximately 1900_

"I need the damn chopper ready in 30 minutes." Murdock glared at the large Sergeant, thinking he looked like the yang to BA's ying. Were all of the mechanics in the Army that big?

"You are fucking Howlin' Mad, man. This chopper ain't goin' anywhere in 30 days, let alone 30 minutes. Don't know how ya got the fuckin' thing back here in the first place."

"Than you better get me a new one, Sarge, 'cause I gotta be in the air in 30. Capice?"

The Sergeant took a deep breath. "Yes sir, Captain."

Murdock swung from the Sergeant, who was still shaking his head over the condition of the chopper Murdock had limped back to base in. The smell of sulfur hung in the air, and the periodic blasts from enemy fire seemed to be getting louder and more frequent. Over the cacophony of noises, he heard a familiar voice calling his name and turned to find Jeremy Lewis waving a hand and loping toward him.

"Fuck." Murdock muttered. Lewis had seen him look. No way to ignore him now. Had Lew found out about last night? This was just what he needed.

He glanced at his watch pointedly as the intelligence agent stopped in front of him. "I gotta be in the air in 28 minutes and counting, so this better be quick, Lewis."

"We have a problem."

Murdock began striding toward HQ. Morrison wanted a status report before he left. Besides, maybe Lewis would take the hint. "What?"

"I think Syd may be right. I think Morrison is a turncoat. And I'm afraid he's gotten to her."

Murdock jerked to a stop and stared at Lewis. "Gotten to her how?"

"I haven't seen her all afternoon. And Morrison has been sequestered in the secured interrogation area all day. Do you think that's a coincidence?"

Murdock felt the knot of apprehension that had been tying in his gut since he left Syd early this morning double up. If she was right, that meant the Hanoi job was a set up. And if the Hanoi job was a setup . . . "Where's Morrison now?"

"Interrogation."

"Well, I need to see him anyway, so let's go visit and find out what's really going on."

They approached the barrack's that had been used by intelligence for holding and interrogating prisoners before transfer to longer-term facilities. Lewis led the way, motioning Murdock to the rear of the building. They reached the far corner, and Lewis pointed at the end unit and mouthed 'This is it.'

Murdock nodded, and hissed, "How do we get in?"

Lewis held up a key, and unlocked the back door. They flanked the room, and Murdock listened. He could hear someone moving around inside, but other than that it was quiet.

Murdock glanced over at Lewis, who was watching him with a curious look on his face. Lewis at his back didn't make him feel any safer, but if Sydney was in there, there weren't a lot of options. He pulled his service revolver, stood and pounded on the door. "Colonel Morrison. Captain Murdock here, sir, to provide a status update."

Again, he heard some shuffling inside, then the door opened to reveal Morrison. "Captain, I –"

Murdock brought up his 1911 and held the barrel against the middle of Morrison's forehead. "How's it goin' Colonel?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing Captain?"

"Who ya got in there, Colonel?" Murdock forced his CC back into the room. In the middle of the room an army blanket lay covering something on the floor. Lewis walked in and pulled the blanket back to reveal Sydney, who appeared to be unconscious.

Murdock felt his bile rise when he saw her. Morrison had been brutal in his interrogation, and Murdock knew from experience the kind of pain and mental anguish that underscored the physical evidence of the torture Sydney had been subjected to.

He heard a shot ring out and looked at the pistol in his hand in surprise. Then he turned toward Lewis and noted the smoke rising from the gun in the agent's hands. He shivered at the hate he saw reflected in Lewis' eyes. It was a profound, and all-consuming hate, and one that Murdock recognized that he shared. Looking down at his dead CC, he knew without a doubt that if Lewis hadn't pulled the trigger, he would have.

He thought he saw Sydney move out of the corner of his eye. He shoved his pistol back into its holster with shaking hands and dropped to his knees next to her. "Jesus, Sugar, what has he done to you?" His fingers wouldn't work right, as he tried to untie the knots binding Sydney's raw wrists. Her skin was so cold, even in the heat.

Lewis leaned down at Syd's head and put fingers to her throat. He put a stilling hand on Murdock's arm. "Captain, she's gone. And you have to get going. You're due at the pickup point soon."

Murdock placed a hand on her face and took a ragged breath. "I can't leave her here like this." A shell landed near enough to rock the building, and Murdock and Lewis both ducked and covered instinctively.

They sat up and Lewis put a hand on his arm. "I'll take care of her, Murdock. I promise. You have to go and get the Team. Syd was right, the Hanoi job was a setup – they're going to need you."

Murdock looked absently at his watch as he stumbled to his feet. "I have to go." He murmured. He stared at Sydney. "You're sure she's . . . gone?" He just couldn't bring himself to say 'dead' – it sounded too final.

"I'm afraid so." Lewis shook his head, his lips pressed in a thin line. "I should have checked on her sooner, but I was tied up all day."

Lewis stood and walked over, nudging Morrison's body with the toe of his boot. He pulled out his revolver and put another bullet in the CC for good measure. He tucked his pistol back in its holster. "At least the asshole responsible is dead. I'll get her body on a transport home." Lewis looked up at the Captain, his eyes full of sympathy. "It's the least I can do."

Murdock backed away, taking one last look at Sydney before nodding. "I gotta go." His voice was weak, shaky. He looked at Syd's partner. "Take good care of her, Lewis."

Lew smiled. "I will."

*

Murdock turned haunted eyes toward Sydney. "I thought you were dead. I didn't check myself. I took Lew's word for it. He said he'd take good care of you."

Sydney nodded, swallowed, and whispered. "He made me promise." A tear rolled down her cheek.

"You remember?" Richter asked.

She nodded as her fingers began their odd drumming. He had finally come to the conclusion that it was a coping mechanism of some sort, so he ignored it.

"What do you remember Sydney?" Hannibal asked.

"Lewis . . . caught me off-guard in his quarters. He must have knocked me out. When I woke, I was staked to a dirt floor . . . apparently in that interrogation bunker, though at the time I didn't realize that was where I was. When I first woke up I couldn't see anything. There was a hood or something over my head . . ."

_January 27, 1972 approximately 1100_

Sydney came around slowly, and opened her eyes, but it made little difference. The rough, dark cloth over her head barely let any light through, let alone images. There was tape over her mouth, forcing her to breathe through her nose. Hot, moist air enveloped her, the smell of dust and stale sweat nearly overwhelming. She could hear movement and a door slam, and struggled to remain still hoping to overhear something that would help her out of this mess.

"Goddamit, Lewis, what the hell were you thinking?" She recognized Morrison's voice.

"What was I supposed to do? Let her go to the authorities? They're already asking too many damn questions," Lewis said.

"We need to know what she knows, and what she's told Murdock." The third voice, low and smooth, was the same one from Morrison's hootch that morning. Sydney still couldn't place it.

"What do you suggest?" Morrison asked.

Movement, then that smooth, authoritative voice spoke again. "Lewis knows what to do. Make sure you break her. I don't want to take any chances. Then we'll dispose of her over the Laos border."

"You expect me to interrogate my own partner?" Lew's voice held of a hint of disbelief.

"She's a fucking Bureau rat, not your partner, Lewis. And what I expect is for you to do your fucking job." The third man said sharply. "Find out what she knows and then kill her. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Lewis sounded like a recalcitrant teenager.

"Don't 'sir' me, asshole. Just get the job done, and get rid of the evidence. Capice?"

"Capice."

More movement and the door slammed again.

Morrison spoke, his voice carrying a hint of revulsion. "I'll leave you to your work. I'll check back later, after I get Smith's Team on their way. We still need to come up with a strategy for dealing with Murdock. You gonna be Ok doing this, Lewis?"

"Orders are orders, right?" Lew's voice was flat. "Make sure nobody else enters the bunker today. I don't want to take any chances."

"With the pull-out commencing, we haven't used the bunker in weeks. You should be safe here. I'll have Curtis keep an eye out just in case."

Another door slam and she hear the deadbolt shoot home. Lew's footfalls approached and stopped near her head. He pulled off the hood, and Sydney looked up into the eyes of her partner, a man she had watched ruthlessly interrogate many an enemy captive. "So, you are awake. I thought you might be. I didn't give you that big a dose."

So he had hit her with knock out drugs of some sort. She remembered how impressed she had once been with how her partner seemed to be prepared for anything. She also realized what it meant to her in this situation.

He pulled out his knife, one of his favorite tools of the trade: a smooth, sharp seven-inch blade on one side, with even serrations along the other side. He had actually spent quite a bit of time customizing the blade for his own use, and took a great deal of pride in its effectiveness.

He slipped it under the lower hem of her shirt and Sydney winced as he drew the blade up, slicing through the fabric of her shirt while allowing the serrated edge to graze the skin along her spine. She could hear Lew's breath coming faster as he continued to slice through the rest of her clothing, removing it, piece by piece and leaving a stinging trail of scrapes everywhere he went.

Once he had removed all of her clothing, he leaned close to her ear, his breath hot. "Trust me, Sydney, this is going to hurt you far more than it hurts me." He tangled his hand in her hair then proceeded to cut around his fist, shearing the hair off her head. Sydney watched as he held the fistful of hair to his nose and inhaled, before shoving it into his pocket. She watched in horror as he lowered his pants. She felt the pressure of him on her back, and once again his breath was hot in her ear as he penetrated her. "I'll make you forget your pilot, Sydney."

*

The flood gates in her memory had opened, and Sydney gasped as scenes flashed through her conscious mind, un-narrated. She drew her knees up to her chin, in an attempt to stop the trembling that wracked her body.

"Stop this!" Murdock looked desperately at Dr. Richter.

"Sydney, you're safe here," Richter said soothingly.

"Syd, I'm right here with you. It's gonna be ok." Murdock seemed afraid to touch her, and Richter thought that was probably a good thing, given what Sydney was likely remembering.

Tears coursed down her cheeks. "It hurts." Her red-rimmed eyes stared straight ahead, blood-shot and terrified. Richter crouched in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Sydney, listen to me. You are safe. No one is going to hurt you here. Your memories cannot hurt you."

She nodded, but the trembling became even more pronounced. BA appeared and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. "S'ok, little sister. We're right here with you. We ain't gonna let anything happen to you."

"Sydney, where are you?" Richter spoke sharply, demanding her attention.

She looked at him in confusion for a moment, then her eyes swiveled to look around her. She unclamped her mouth long enough to say, "Oregon. I'm in Oregon."

Richter nodded. "And are you safe?"

She nodded. The trembling had abated to a periodic shudder, and the tears slowed.

Murdock shook his head. "Enough of this."

"It's ok, HM. I'm Ok." Sydney's voice was raspy, but firm.

Murdock didn't look convinced, but Hannibal leaned forward. "We need to know what you remember, Sydney. We need to know who the third guy is."

Richter gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Sydney, do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"I want you to close your eyes."

She complied.

"There is no pain, Sydney. I want you to listen to the voice of the third man. Think about when you've heard this voice before. What was it saying?"

Sydney swayed in her seat. "After HM left."

Murdock looked at her. "You weren't blindfolded when I left. Did you see him?"

Fresh tears welled out of her eyes. "No, it was after Lewis put me in the body bag. He helped Lew carry me out to a waiting Jeep." Sydney's eyes went wide. "He thought I was dead, too. Lew lied to him."

"Then what happened?"

"Lewis took me into Laos, to an old supply depot just over the border. I recognized it from a recon we did . . ." Sydney paused. "He hung me like meat in one of the sheds, then left to hide the jeep. Before he came back, a group of CIA-trained Hmong tribesmen showed up. I think I talked to them before I passed out. I don't recall much after that. They must have taken me to the hospital. The next thing I remember is waking up there several weeks later."

Richter was gratified to see Sydney loosen her grip on her knees and uncurl from the fetal position she had been sitting in. Though her eyes were still red, her voice was fairly calm and analytical. She seemed to be weathering the recovery of the memories amazingly well.

He heard the heavy tread of Hannibal pacing behind him, and turned to see the Colonel puffing on a cigar, looking like an old steam engine as he tracked back and forth. "We're still no closer to finding out who the hell was orchestrating all of this. Who is the third man? That's what we need to know. He's the guy who pulls Lewis' strings."

"I'm sorry, Hannibal." Sydney looked crestfallen. "I just can't place the voice. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried."

Hannibal gave her a fleeting smile. "I'm not blaming you kid. You've done more than we should have asked of you." He sighed. "Our suspects haven't changed: Stockwell, Quinn, Cheney – am I missing anyone? Would you recognize the voice if you heard it again, Syd?"

"Maybe? I don't know. It's been a long time." Sydney's eyes widened. "The third man referred to me as a 'Bureau rat' – " She looked up at Hannibal as the pieces fell into place. "I didn't work for the CIA, I worked for the FBI. The Bureau headed the state-side task force. I was sent in with a group of hand-selected agents to find the other end of the smuggling ring. Quinn was the FBI manager in country."

Face took a deep breath. "So we have three equally-likely possibilities, Quinn, Stockwell and Cheney."

"I just can't believe Cheney was involved," Murdock insisted.

"And as I've said, I'm not going to trust instincts about a man you haven't had contact with for over 15 years." Hannibal gave Murdock a stern look. "Quinn, Cheney and Stockwell – any of them could be connected enough to pull this off. We treat all as enemies until we know different."

"Pretty damn undefined enemy," Face said.

Hannibal ignored his Lieutenant and gazed out at the lake. "Well, I guess that means we move on to Plan B."

"And what is Plan B, Hannibal?" BA asked.

Hannibal's eyes narrowed. "It's a work in progress. I'll let you know what I come up with."

"When he comes up with it," Face muttered.

"Do you have anything constructive to add, Lieutenant?" Hannibal's voice was sharp.

Face stood up. "I'm sick of the waiting, Hannibal. We can take care of Lewis but where does that leave us? With some unknown assailant, coming at us with seemingly unlimited resources? I'm not sure we're left with a lot of choices here."

"I know what you're thinking, Face. But we've come too far to give up now. I'm not willing to skip the country at this stage of the game."

Murdock looked at Hannibal narrowly. "You're thinking of setting a trap."

"We get word out to Stockwell that Sydney remembers. That should shake things loose," Hannibal said.

"But you don't have any guarantees that it will shake the head honcho loose," Face said. "We're still in the same boat."

Hannibal acknowledged the accuracy of Face's statement with a curt nod. "I think we've learned all we can from these sessions." He turned to Richter and shook his hand. "Thanks for your help, Doc. I think it might be best if you and Amy headed out of here this afternoon. I don't want you getting caught up in whatever comes next."

*

Richter shook the offered hand, and for the first time in 24 hours felt a sense of redemption. "I'm not going anywhere, Colonel. And I seriously doubt you'll get Amy to budge either."

Hannibal grunted. "Or Maggie, for that matter. Alright. Hopefully we're safe enough for now. BA, you take first watch, I'll relieve you at midnight. Face, 0600."

"Murdock at noon?" Face asked.

"By then we'll have a plan of action and be on the move," Hannibal said as he strode into the house.

* * * *

**Prologue to Chapter 19**

From Redmond, the trip to Sisters, Oregon only took Ike about half an hour. It helped that it was early evening on Friday, after most of the commuters were already home. It also didn't hurt that Ike was a habitual speeder. He weaved in and out of the sparse traffic on the McKenzie Highway at a break-neck speed, intent on getting to the Sisters Eagle Air Airport.

Once there, Ike was escorted onto General Stockwell's jet by one of his so-called Able agents. Ike smiled at the irony of the terminology. He followed the man, infrared scan in hand, into the General's on-board office. Stockwell paced behind a large desk that Ike was certain was designed to intimidate. Stockwell was a master of intimidation, but it didn't faze Ike. He had known Stockwell too long to be intimidated him. Hell, he had lived too hard and too long to be intimidated by pretty much anyone or anything.

Stockwell swung around to face him. "So, you decided to come out here after all, eh, Cheney? I haven't seen Mr. Lewis, yet. I told you I would call."

Ike dropped the scan onto the desk and unrolled it. "The scan you requested."

"You came all the way out here to give this to me?" Stockwell's tone was skeptical.

Ike shrugged. "That's not the only reason. You know as well as I do that just because you haven't seen Lewis doesn't mean he's not here."

"Oh, I didn't say he wasn't here, just that I have not seen him."

"I was hoping we could work together on this, sort of, off the record. For old time's sake."

The glowing red image that overlaid a very remote location in the Cascades on an underlying topographic map held Stockwell's attention even while he spoke. "Getting nervous?"

"I may be beginning to feel the heat for not producing Sydney Wilson in a, shall we say, timely manner."

Veiled eyes peered at Ike from behind those damn sunglasses. They were effective at masking what little information the General might provide in his already guarded gaze. Ike held his face impassive.

Thin lips quirked up at the corners, and a muted 'hmph' escaped as Stockwell leaned over to examine routes into the A-Team's location. "For old time's sake is hardly an adequate motivator, old friend. Certainly you can offer more than that?"

"As we discussed earlier, I can offer you part of the credit for bringing Lewis in."

Stockwell sat in the leather desk chair and steepled his hands in front of his face, a smug look firmly in place. "And just what form of assistance are you seeking?"

"I have decided, after some persuasion that it would be prudent to retrieve Sydney Wilson and bring her in for questioning."

"Very well." Stockwell leaned forward and pressed an intercom buzzer. Ike had the distinct impression that Stockwell had planned to retrieve Sydney Wilson, anyway.

A blond woman, impeccably dressed, strode into the room. "Yes, General?"

"Please have Able 8 arrange for off-road transport and surveillance scanning equipment. Oh, and map the quickest route to the location shown on this IR scan." He grabbed the map off the desk and handed it to the woman, who spun on her heel and left without further instruction.

"Wouldn't flying in be quicker?"

"It probably would be, but landing zones in that country are difficult to come by."

"I would wager Captain Murdock wouldn't have a problem finding one." Ike smiled.

"If I had the Captain's services I might feel differently about our mode of transportation. However, by going in on the ground, I plan to get closer without them realizing we are coming. They will have a surveillance perimeter set up, but over the last year, I have come to know the A-Team's methods fairly well. We should be able to avoid detection until we reach the house. Otherwise, they may spirit Ms. Wilson away to somewhere we will never find her."

The woman reappeared and held the neatly-rolled IR scan out to the General. "I have the coordinates, sir. Would you like this back?"

"Thank you, Carla." Stockwell held the scan out to Cheney. "You might want to dispose of that. We wouldn't want the wrong person getting hold of it."

Ike took it back as Carla continued to wait. Stockwell turned to her. "Is there something else?" His tone conveyed mild irritation, but the woman didn't flinch.

"Yes, sir. Able 8 would like to clarify your instructions. It should take just a moment."

Stockwell gave a curt nod and stood. "I will return momentarily. Please, make yourself comfortable."

As the door closed behind them, Ike unrolled the scan and folded it so that the title block for the topo was visible, careful to make sure that it laid flat. He shuffled carefully through the few papers on Stockwell's desk, finally deciding that the out box was a good place. He slipped the folded scan under the top paper in the out box, just as Stockwell reappeared.

"Arrangements should be complete within the hour. It's a lengthy trip, but there is a small heliport closer to our destination. We will take a chopper and head there, while Carla sets up command central here. Are you ready?"

Ike nodded. "Lead the way, General."

Stockwell smiled thinly. "Oh, I insist, after you."

*

As Isaac Cheney strode out of the cabin, Hunt Stockwell removed the top paper in his in box and set it on his desk. There was no point in taking the chance that Mr. Lewis could miss the map.

**CHAPTER 19: Not so Idyllic Interlude**

Face walked out on the deck to find Amy and Murdock chatting. He felt an unreasonable pang of jealousy, but it passed quickly, and he decided that maybe, with Murdock there, it would be safe to talk to Amy casually; try to get their relationship at least back to the status quo, if not take that bold step Hannibal and Sydney had suggested. After all, what did he have to lose? 'A good friend,' his inner voice taunted.

He was about to bolt, but Murdock looked up and grinned at him. He was stuck and grimaced as his best friend goaded him almost as harshly as his own inner voice. "Ah, if it isn't the handsome qui no sabe."

Face heaved a resigned sigh and dropped into a nearby lounge chair. "So, Amy, what kind of stories has the mad man been regaling you with?"

Amy looked at Murdock affectionately, and Face felt another flash of envy. "He's been filling me in about the last year, while you guys have been working for Stockwell. Guy sounds like a real piece of work."

Face snorted. "If by 'piece of work' you mean manipulative, vindictive bastard, then I'd have to agree."

"Murdock said you guys like to flaunt your ability to override Stockwell's security by throwing wild parties. Sounds very Face-like." Was she sneering at him?

"Really more Hannibal-like," Murdock interjected.

"Right." Amy neither looked, nor sounded convinced.

"Actually, Face has been rather chaste, lately." Face groaned inwardly as Murdock clumsily tried to defend his honor. "And, he's been pretty much incarcerated at the compound, which makes, you know, phone calls and dates and stuff kind of difficult."

He smiled triumphantly. Face just shook his head. Murdock had subtlety down to a mad science.

Murdock abruptly stood, an even broader grin splitting his face. "Ah, there's my lady. Sorry guys. I'd love to sit and chat, but it looks like Syd is headed upstairs, and I hate to see her go alone!"

Face watched in dismay as Murdock disappeared inside, leaving him alone on the deck with Amy. Damn. He turned to her and smiled. "Those two are a little sickening right now."

Amy shrugged. "I think it's sweet."

"Sweet, yeah."

She crossed her arms. "It's obvious they're crazy about each other. We should all be so lucky."

"Lucky, yeah."

Amy glared at him. "Well, what would you call it?"

"Let's face it, Amy. Murdock's never been the sharpest tool in the shed where women are concerned."

"Oh, and you are?" Amy's voice dripped sarcasm.

"I know what they're good for, yeah." It came out, even though he recognized that it was the wrong thing to say.

Amy's face tightened, her eyes flashing. "A quick roll in the hay, isn't that about it, Lieutenant?"

Face tried for a safer tone and topic, to pull the conversation back from the brink of disaster. "I'm not saying they aren't good for each other, they are. But you have to admit that every time they get together disaster seems to strike."

"And you think that's _because _they get together? You're more screwed up than I thought, Face."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Amy stared at him for several seconds before responding, "Tell me, Face. Have you ever relied solely on a woman for more than sex?"

"Sure I have. Maggie . . . you – we all rely on you to be there for us."

"Right, to be there for the Team." Amy smirked and shook her head. "That's not what I mean, Face. Have _you_ ever relied solely on a woman for more than sex?"

"I don't think I'm getting you . . ."

"And you never will." Amy stood up and started to walk away.

Face jumped to his feet and followed. "Wait a minute, Amy. You can't just spout some cryptic bullshit and walk away. Explain how screwed up I am. I really want to know just what you think is wrong with me."

She stopped, her back still to him and he nearly collided with her. When she turned, they were only a few inches apart. He could smell her – a light floral scent mingled with her sweet-smelling sweat. He could feel the heat of her anger radiating from her body, tense in front of him. He cursed silently at himself as he felt his body's primal reaction to her.

Her words were low and intense, and fell on him like the pinpricks of a cold shower. "You are always looking for a quick lay, Face, never looking beyond the night. Dreading the next morning, when you have to face the stark reality that the woman you screwed is a real, live human being, totally separate from you. But that doesn't really matter to you, anyway, because her feelings, and thoughts, and . . . being have no further impact on you. There's no emotional entanglement – makes it easy for you to walk away, doesn't it?"

Face could feel his heart throbbing in his temple as he stared into Amy's wide eyes. He grabbed one of her arms and shook her. "That's what you think? No emotional entanglement? Bullshit, Amy." He jabbed a finger into his own chest. "_I_ wasn't the one that walked away." Then he jabbed it at her. "_You_ left for Jakarta."

Tears slipped down Amy's cheeks. "But you were the one who was gone in the morning, Face. I woke up and you were just gone."

He dropped her arm and took a step back. "Because I didn't want the guys to know . . ."

"Because you were ashamed."

"Amy, it . . . it wasn't like that."

"Then how was it, Face?"

He stared at her tear-streaked face, and struggled to find words that would make everything alright between them. But all that he could think of were all the reasons he really left her in bed alone – and none of those would help in this situation, of that he was certain. After a minute of waiting, her expression fading from hopeful to crushed, Amy turned and fled down the steps toward the lake.

Face could only watch her leave. What could he say? That he had awakened after the incredible night they spent together, and bolted in pure terror? One thought flashed through his mind in bold, impossible-to-ignore neon: He _was_ a coward.

* * *

Murdock walked through the living room, and considered where to go from here. He hadn't really seen Syd going up the stairs. After the session she had insisted on some alone time and taken off toward the lake. Personally, he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now. Every time he relaxed, the images of Sydney in that bunker flooded his mind and refused to be ignored. He glanced out to the deck, saw that Amy and Face were engrossed in their conversation and veered away from the stairs and into the kitchen, where Maggie and Hannibal were making dinner.

The couple was sitting in the breakfast nook, talking, and looked up as Murdock walked in. The smell of beef roast was comforting, and Murdock opened the oven door to get a face full of the delicious scent. Beef roast always reminded him of his grandparents' ranch. He had spent some of the best times of his young life there.

"How are you, HM?" Maggie's voice conveyed concern and affection.

The oven door squeaked closed and Murdock turned and smiled at Maggie and Hannibal: the two people who headed the closest thing to family that Murdock had known in a long time. What would happen if they couldn't resolve this situation? If they had to skip the country? He couldn't lie to either one of them. He was worried. "I'm as good as can be expected, I guess."

"Where's Syd?" Hannibal had his hands wrapped around a coffee mug, no cigar in sight.

Murdock smiled inwardly. Maggie was the only person who could coerce Hannibal into giving up his cigars. "She said she needed some time alone. She processes differently than I do. Personally, I'd like to go back to blissful ignorance. Not sure I'll be able to sleep again."

Hannibal's piercing gaze was locked on him. "She was in bad shape when you got into the bunker, wasn't she?"

Murdock frowned, nodded. "I didn't check for a pulse, but when I touched her, I remember how cold she felt. Still I should have –"

"Stop right there, HM." Maggie's tone was uncompromising. "You did what you could. It's possible, given what little I've heard about her injuries, that even if you had felt for a pulse you wouldn't have found one. Weak, thready pulses are difficult to detect under the best of circumstances. And, you had other concerns on your mind at the time."

"Doesn't change the fact that I didn't trust Lewis. I can't believe I would have left her there with _him_." Murdock leaned against the counter, thoughts beginning to wander.

"Maggie's right, Murdock. You thought she was dead. What more could Lewis do to her?"

But Murdock wasn't really listening, he was back on base, walking out of the interrogation bunker; running toward the heliport. He remembered finding the sergeant. "Sorry, Captain. It's gonna be a few more minutes before you're ready to go. I've got a slick just about prepped for you, It's fueling now." Left at loose ends, Murdock had time to think about what had happened, and decided he should return to the bunker –

"Captain, are you alright?" Hannibal was standing in front of him, shaking his shoulder.

"The chopper wasn't ready when I got back to the heliport." Murdock looked at his commanding officer. "I went back to the bunker . . ."

Hannibal stepped back. "And?"

Murdock shook his head and stood up. "And . . . I don't know. I remember starting back toward the bunker, but the memory peters out there. I don't think I made it back to the room . . ." He messaged his temples, shook his head. "Damn, it just won't come."

Hannibal squeezed his shoulder. "Stop thinking about it. Maybe if you relax, put it out of your mind, it'll come to you."

Murdock nodded. "Yeah, maybe."

Maggie pulled a huge pan out of the oven and hefted it onto the stove top. She lifted the lid and enveloped all of them in the heavenly smell of pot roast and veggies. Murdock sighed, and smiled. "I'm hungry."

"Well, why don't you set the table while we get dinner dished up," Maggie suggested.

"Yes, ma'am." Murdock gave her a sloppy salute, before opening the cupboard to get down a stack of plates.

* * *

Amy arrived down at the lake and stopped short. Sydney glanced back at her from the bench, then turned to face her, blue eyes full of sympathy and concern. Amy swiped at her face in irritation – if anyone should feel sorry for anyone, Amy should feel sorry for Sydney. The woman had been through hell and there didn't appear to be any end in sight. It made her and Face's situation seem petty and inconsequential.

"Are you Ok?"

Amy took a deep breath, and nodded. "I thought you were up at the house."

Sydney shook her head. "I needed some quiet time to think, get things into perspective."

Amy shook her head as she realized Murdock had just been making an excuse to leave her and Face alone. She made a mental note to have a stern talk with him about keeping his nose in his own business. She refocused on Sydney, and Murdock's brief description of the later afternoon session sent a chill of pity through her. "Murdock told me a little bit about what you . . . remembered. If there's anything I can do to help –"

"No." Sydney's smile seemed sad. "But thanks for the offer. I've spent half my life in therapy. I know all the tricks of the trade at this point. Just need to put some of the coping techniques to use, that's all." She turned and gazed back out at the lake.

Amy walked forward and gripped the back of the bench. She stared at Sydney. "How do you do it? If I were in your position, I'd be a mess."

She shrugged. "Like I told Hannibal, I've always been good at compartmentalization. You have to be when bad things happen, or you can make yourself crazy. You think about it, cry about it, maybe even get angry, but in the end, you can't let it rule your life. In my head, I put it all in a box and tuck it into the attic. It's there, but it isn't in the foyer staring you in the face every day – know what I mean?"

"So you just pack the bad stuff up and forget about it?"

"It's there if I need it." Sydney sighed. "Today has been like a moving day, where you pull out all the old dusty boxes to see what you need to take with you. Some of the boxes were in a padlocked area that I hadn't been able to open. Today, I broke that lock, but now I remember why I originally threw away the key."

Sydney looked up at Amy, and slid over some. "Enough with bad analogies. I wouldn't mind some company right now; a voice outside my head that lives in a saner world. Why don't you have a seat?"

Amy glanced at her uncertainly, but rounded the bench and sat down. She gazed across the lake, where Haley and Frankie swam near a boulder that jutted up and offered a good jumping spot into deeper water. Amy had left them there earlier. "They are going to be water logged by the time dinner is ready."

Sydney chuckled. "Haley loves the water. She says she can't trip and look like a klutz in the water."

"She's a beautiful young woman, Sydney."

"Yes, she is. I wouldn't give her up, even if it meant going through all of it again. She's the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I was going to say that you're lucky, but that just sounds so wrong," Amy said.

*

Sydney smiled, shrugged. "I guess it's all in your perspective. I grew up a lot like Haley – it was just me and my Mom. We moved around a lot and I never really put down roots anywhere. After Mom died, I was all alone . . . until I met HM, and Face . . . Ray." Sydney's voice broke, and tears welled in her eyes. The one thing she hadn't really accepted yet was that Ray was dead. The loss was too great.

"You were close to Ray?"

"He was like this incredible older brother. I mean, don't get me wrong, Hannibal is great, but he was dead set against Murdock and me, kinda like a disapproving father-figure. Ray smoothed it over. He was always there when we needed him. You know, I think I missed those guys even without knowing what I was missing."

Amy nodded. "I think I know what you mean. I missed being part of the Team. It's grown to become more of a family than a military unit. I guess 15 years on the run forces you closer."

"It started, even back in 'Nam. Hannibal always had a soft spot for the misfit men he took on. It's what made them such a good unit. They were the best alpha team on the post, and it was no accident. I felt privileged to be part of it, even if it was just on the fringes."

Amy's gaze had turned brooding. "What do you think is going to happen now?"

Sydney knitted her brow, and tried to interpret what Amy was talking about. That was one of the most loaded questions she had ever heard. She decided to hold her tongue and see what direction Amy took the conversation.

"Hannibal wants Dr. Richter and me to leave, but if I leave . . ." She shook her head. "I don't want to lose them again, but I'm afraid it's inevitable."

"Then don't leave."

"I'm not. But if Hannibal decides it's safest to skip the country, then what? He's going to want to travel light. And I can't just leave. Neither can Maggie."

"We aren't going to skip the country."

"Murdock said it may be the only option."

Sydney shook her head, resolved. "No. There's always another option. I refuse to accept the idea of being on the run for the rest of my life. Haley . . . hell, I deserve better than that. It's not going to happen."

Amy smiled. "Thanks, I hope you're right."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, as laughter and yelling reached them across the water. Sydney allowed thoughts of the situation between Amy and Face to crowd out her own concerns for awhile. Worrying about other people's problems had always been good therapy for her own. She glanced periodically at the sad, resigned expression on Amy's face before finally broaching the subject. "So, have you talked to him?"

Amy jerked her head around to look at Sydney, obviously surprised by the sudden change of subject. "What?"

"Why were you crying when you came down here?"

Amy stared at her for several long seconds. Sydney sighed. "Come on, Amy, give."

"I talked to him . . ." Amy's voice broke, and then it all spilled out, and she was crying again. Sydney put an arm around her shoulders and patted her back.

"He was ashamed of me," Amy finished. "I can't believe I was so stupid."

Sydney shook her head. "You are reading what Face said all wrong, Amy."

Amy sniffed and sat up. "How so?"

"Face is one of the bravest men I know, but when it comes to personal interactions, he's always been . . ." Sydney stopped herself from saying 'a pussy' and continued in an analytical tone that she was sure Asher or Richter would have admired, "overly cautious. He suffers from abandonment issues. That, coupled with the stressors from his childhood and the war, have produced the handsome con man we know and love today."

"Huh?" Amy's tears had dried, and she was gazing at Sydney with a skeptical expression.

"Face finds it difficult to commit, so he bounces from one bimbo to the next, always focusing on the women that attract him physically, and _only_ physically. I watched it happen over in 'Nam, and from what Murdock has told me, his behavior hasn't changed."

"So I'm just another bimbo." Amy's eyebrows were arched high above her eyes, and she looked mildly insulted.

Sydney shook her head. "That's part of the problem, Amy. You aren't just another bimbo. Let me take a stab, here. You and Face, probably Murdock, you were close, good friends. You hung out together, joked around."

Amy shrugged. "Yeah, Face and Murdock were closest to my age, so I guess we naturally . . . gravitated toward each other."

"It was the same way with me and them back in 'Nam." Sydney turned and propped a leg up on the bench, so she faced Amy. "It's tough hanging out with a couple of intelligent, handsome guys and not falling for one of them. But the catch is, you're friends, nothing more. And I don't know about you, but I always subscribed to the whole 'never sleep with a friend' credo. It just has the potential to mess up a perfectly good friendship."

Amy nodded miserably. "Like it did for me and Face."

"But see, Amy, I learned that _that_ is the coward's credo of personal relationships. The truth is that if you are friends, really good friends with someone, there's no better person for you to enter into a more serious relationship with. Face knows that subconsciously. It's why he avoids sleeping with women that he connects with on anything but a physical level. But see, with you, he let his guard down. And now he's screwed. He fell in love, and it scares the shit out of him."

Sydney took Amy's hand, and looked intently into her eyes. "You're going to have to be strong, Amy, and persistent. Take a lesson from Murdock. He knows what it's like to deal with this kind of thing." She smiled. "Maybe he could give you some pointers."

The dinner bell rang, and they both looked up toward the house. Sydney gave Amy's hand a squeeze and released it. "It'll work out – may not be easy, but it'll work out. You just have to have faith."

Sydney stood and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Hey, you two human prunes – it's time for dinner!"

* * *

Murdock walked out on the deck and caught Sydney's hand, pulling her up from the chair she was sitting in and leading her to a lounge. He sat down and beckoned for her to join him. "Ok, I've given you your space. Now indulge me and let me hold you."

Sydney smiled and sank down in front of him. She leaned back and Murdock enveloped her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. "Are you feeling better?" He murmured against her ear.

She shifted and put her arms around him. "I feel perfect right now." She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

Murdock pressed his lips against her head. "I love you, sugar; more than you'll ever know."

Sydney smiled. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea. The feeling is mutual, you know."

Haley plopped into the chair next to them. "Face is right, you two need to get a room."

"We have a room," Murdock said with a grin. "We just like to gross you out."

"It's working." Haley tried grimacing, but she started giggling when she looked over at Murdock, who had his eyes crossed with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Amy appeared and glanced around the deck, her eyes landing on Sydney and Murdock. She walked over and smiled at them. "Comfy?"

"Very." Sydney murmured.

Murdock smoothed a hand over her hair, and smiled. "If you weren't so stubborn we could have been comfy like this awhile ago."

Sydney's eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Amy. "Did you need something?"

Amy shifted and licked her lips. "Have either of you seen Face since dinner? I was kinda . . . hoping to talk to him."

Murdock's eyebrows traveled up his forehead. "About what?"

Sydney sat up and smacked him. "None of your business." She turned to Amy. "I haven't seen him. Maybe –"

"He's upstairs." Murdock interrupted. "He wasn't feeling sociable tonight. Last I saw him, he was on the veranda at the end of the house."

Amy patted her leg nervously. "Thanks, Murdock." She hesitated, looked at Sydney. "Wish me luck?"

"Luck," Sydney offered, along with a warm smile. "But you don't need it. Just be honest with him. And if he insists on being a jerk, come back down and we'll talk. Then I'll kick his ass."

A nervous bark of laughter escaped Amy's lips. "Thanks, Syd." She hurried back into the house.

"It's none of _my_ business, huh?" Murdock asked.

"It's none of our business. Unless Face is stubborn, which I wouldn't put past him."

"Kinda like somebody else I know." Murdock pulled Sydney back into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips while Haley made gagging sounds next to them.

* * *

Amy's steps faltered once she reached the top of the stairs. She could see Face leaning against the deck railing on the veranda at the end of the hall. It was a clear night, and the full moon made it almost as bright out as day, though the colors were muted. Despite the chill in the air, Face was in a tank top and shorts, and Amy felt her body react to the vivid memory of the feel of that muscular body. She swallowed and forced herself to calm down and run over the points she wanted to make once more.

Her final rehearsal complete, she smoothed her shirt down, took a deep breath and walked resolutely to the end of the hall, and through the French doors to join him at the railing.

He turned and looked at her in surprise, but she rushed to give her speech before he could trip her up. "Face, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I think I was so afraid that you would reject me that I decided to beat you to the punch. The truth is, I went to Jakarta for the same reason, and the only reason I came back was because I was miserable away from you . . . all of you. But . . ." She took a shuddering breath. "Especially, I missed _you_."

She hesitated, afraid to meet his eyes - afraid of what she might see there. Amusement, ridicule, . . . rejection. She had replayed Sydney's earlier words of reassurance in her head over and over to work up the courage to talk to Face truthfully. But now that she was here, the courage was gone, and all that was left was the raw fear of rejection.

Face's finger hooked under her chin, forcing her to raise her eyes to meet his gaze. She was surprised at the emotions she thought she recognized there: insecurity, disbelief, maybe even fear. Or was she just projecting her own mixed up feelings onto him?

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Amy." Face swallowed. "I'm the one who owes you an apology. I never meant to hurt you. I never should have seduced you. It was wrong, and I'm afraid I've ruined the friendship we had by taking advantage of you."

"You seduced me?" Amy was surprised at the anger she felt well up inside of her. She grabbed Face's collar, "Sydney's right. You are a coward. What are you really afraid of, Face? Are you afraid that I'll tie you down? Well as sad as it sounds, I'd take whatever you're willing to give. I love you that much."

Face stared at her, his eyes far too large in his face, his rapid breathing mirrored by her own. He extracted her fingers from his shirt and turned and walked away. Amy felt like laughing and crying at the same time. "Coward," She growled after him.

He stopped, and turned to look at her. His eyes guarded. "Sydney is right, and she should know. She's the only other woman I've ever kissed and really meant it. I would have taken her from Murdock if she'd have had me. How sick does that make me? Trust me, Amy, I am not the man you want . . . or deserve. I love you enough to walk away."

Amy felt shock, and a slight sense of betrayal by Sydney, but in the end, it didn't change how she felt about the man standing in front of her. "It is not just your decision to make, Face."

"You don't know what you're letting yourself in for, Amy. I'll hurt you. It's inevitable."

Amy moved so she stood in front of him. "What are you afraid of, Face? For once, be truthful – with yourself and with me."

He licked his lips, hesitated. Amy swore his eyes moistened, and she took a step forward, longing to comfort him, but she stopped short, and waited for him to answer.

"I'm terrified . . ."

"Of what, Face?"

"That I'll screw up so bad I'll lose you forever."

"I don't think that's possible." Amy reached out and touched his cheek.

"It's not only possible, I think it's highly probable." Face's jaw clenched and he took a step away from her. "It's better this way, Amy."

"So it doesn't matter what I want?"

Face's chuckle was dry and humorless. "What _do_ you want, Amy? Do you even know?"

Amy considered the question seriously. "Maybe not, but I'll tell you what I do know, Face. I want you by my side."

"And as a friend, I can give you that, but nothing more. I won't hurt you like I did before." Face's mouth was set in a thin, stubborn line.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back, and tried for an angry tone, though there was an unintended quiver in her voice. "But don't you see, Face. You're hurting me now."

He swallowed, shook his head. "I can't seem to win."

Amy took a deep breath to get her emotions back under control. She smiled thinly at him. "I would think by now you'd realize that life isn't about winning. I'm willing to give us a try, Face. If you are."

It felt like a lifetime as Face looked at her, uncertainty and longing warring in his expression. Then, in two steps he crushed her in his arms, claiming her with a kiss that made her head swim. They melted together, and Amy decided that even if he left her bed tomorrow, she was going to make tonight count.

* * *

Murdock bolted upright in bed and sat, silent, his head cocked off to the side.

Sydney rolled over and looked up at him. "What is it?"

"Sh." Murdock counted for a moment under his breath, then stood up. He pulled his pants on and in seconds was rushing out the door, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "Get up. Get dressed and get Haley moving, too."

He pounded on BA's door, but at Face's he stopped short. The door hung open and Face's bed was empty.

"What is it, fool?" BA stood in the hall glaring at Murdock.

"We've got company coming." Murdock turned in time to see Face appear at the door to Amy's room. He noted the fact with interest, but was too intent on their immediate problem to comment. "We need to get everyone up and moving. There's a chopper headed this way."

"Shit." Face disappeared back into the room. Murdock didn't wait; he headed downstairs to talk to Hannibal.

As Murdock hit the bottom of the stairs at a jog, Hannibal appeared in the living room, a quizzical expression on his face. "What are you doing up, Captain?"

"There's a chopper headed this way, Colonel." Murdock headed out onto the deck and stood listening. Hannibal followed, waiting quietly beside him. "There's only one, I'd put it only a few klicks away to the southeast and moving this direction."

"That's pretty damn bold." Hannibal said.

"Wait . . ." Murdock held up a hand. His shoulders slumped. "I don't hear it anymore."

"Landed?" Hannibal suggested.

"If so, they've got a hike to get in here," Murdock said. "Buys us some time."

Hannibal chuckled. "Thanks to your super-human hearing."

Murdock's smile was modest. "Only where aircraft are concerned."

* * * *

**CHAPTER 20: Getting the Party Started**

Back in the living room everyone was assembling. BA and Face had opened the gun cabinet, and selected weapons. Face handed one to Murdock, and BA handed one to Hannibal. Both checked their clips out of habit.

Hannibal nodded as he locked his clip back into place and tucked a spare into his belt. "Murdock thinks our bogey landed a few klicks southeast of here. We begin continuous monitoring of the perimeter starting now, and working in teams. BA, you're with me. We take first round. Murdock, Face, keep watch here. Frankie, you have the monitors."

Face and Murdock conferred quietly for a minute as BA and Hannibal disappeared out the front door. Murdock strode toward the stairs, stopping briefly by Sydney to drop a kiss on her forehead. Then he bounded up the stairs, and Face turned to the assembled company. "We're going to move this party into the office," he said, indicating the door to the inner room, where there were no windows. "You can all flake out in there, and try to get some sleep. It's going to be a long night."

Haley looked at her mother. "Mom, I'm scared."

Sydney nodded. "We all are, but the Team knows what they're doing."

She and Amy held back as the others moved into the office.

"Face?" Syd looked at him quizzically.

He turned, smiled ruefully at Syd, and studiously avoided looking at Amy. He didn't need any distractions right now. He knew the waiting and confinement would be hardest on Sydney. "You have your sidearm?"

"Yes, but I'm gonna go nuts sitting in a goddammed locked room all night."

"You're the likely target, Syd. We're not taking any chances. You wait in there with everyone else." His words left no room for argument.

"Fine. But I'm less than happy with the accommodations." She indicated Amy with a wave of her hand. "At least let Amy and me go upstairs and get some pillows and blankets so everyone can be semi-comfortable."

Face nodded and watched as Syd and Amy walked up the stairs. He ground his teeth and turned resolutely from the view. Damn distractions.

* * *

Sydney, eyes half-closed, was slouched in the wingback chair by the door. It had taken awhile to get Haley calmed down and asleep. Hopefully, by the time she woke up this would all be behind them.

The door opened a crack, then closed almost immediately. She stood, opened the door and hissed at the retreating back. "Face?"

He turned. "I thought everyone was asleep."

Pulling the door almost shut behind her, Sydney shook her head. "I'm too keyed up to sleep. I think everyone else is out, though."

Face scrutinized her and she shifted uncomfortably. "What?"

"You need to get some sleep, Syd."

"Every time I close my eyes . . ." She shuddered. "I can't sleep, Face."

"Well, I was just going to stop in and let everyone know that it's still quiet out here."

"Hannibal and BA?"

"They just left. They're sweeping the length of the drive right now – we lost a camera near the road, and they want to make sure it's just a short. Murdock and I just got back from another perimeter sweep, and Frank hasn't seen anything on the monitors. Maybe Murdock was just imagining the chopper. I mean, Hannibal's right, that's awful damn bold."

Sydney heaved a sigh. "I hate waiting. I'm ready to confront Lewis and end this."

"But we need the guy who's calling the shots, Syd; and Lewis isn't him."

"Even so, Lewis was the one . . ." She stopped and looked up at him, lips pursed. "It's all too vivid now, Face. I can't stop it from replaying. Sitting cooped up in there is just making it worse. I need some fucking closure – and Lewis is who I want."

"You may get that chance sooner than you think, Syd." He glanced at his watch. "I gotta get back out there. Please, try to get some sleep."

She nodded and slipped back into the room. Rather than resuming her seat, she walked over to the wall of built-in book cases and began perusing the titles, which wasn't easy given the low light in the room. She finally picked up Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War' and carried it back over to the chair, pulling the chain on the floor lamp behind her. The book was dog-eared, with no dust cover; the binding broken, and the cover stained. It fell open on her lap, and her eyes were drawn to an entry with scribbled notes next to it. Sydney smiled as she read the passage.

"What are you grinning about?" Amy hissed.

Sydney held up the book, as Amy took a seat in a facing ladder-back chair, sitting as stiffly as the straight wooden seat.

"Looks like Hannibal's bible," Sydney said. "Listen to this:_ "__The skillful tactician may be likened to the shuai-jan. Now the shuai-jan is a snake that is found in the ChUng mountains. Strike at its head, and you will be attacked by its tail; strike at its tail, and you will be attacked by its head; strike at its middle, and you will be attacked by head and tail both." _And next to the paragraph, Hannibal has written: _But cut off the head and then what? Complimentary and cross-trained skill sets needed to build a successful A. Team: leadership, tactics, acquisitions, weapons, intelligence, mechanics. None matter if the members of the Team do not think and act as shaui-jan - as one. _" She flipped through the book. "I've read Sun Tzu before, but not with the kind of awareness that the Colonel has. Hannibal never ceases to amaze me."

Amy took the book and glanced at the binding. "Why did you read 'The Art of War'?"

"It was required reading in my tactical training class. It's an amazing compendium of military strategies and tactics, especially when you consider it was written some 2500 years ago."

Amy handed the book back, shook her head. "They make it look so effortless that I forget how much training there is behind what the Team does."

"They do make it look easy." Sydney chuckled. "And I have to admit, there is something about a man lugging around an M16 that turns me on."

"Amen." Amy snorted, and she and Sydney doubled over, both trying desperately to curb their laughter so they didn't wake the others in the room; the tension of the situation lending a manic edge to their amusement.

They were just getting themselves back under control. Sydney noticed a questioning, almost wary look cross Amy's face. She had the distinct impression that Amy was going to ask her something. But Face opened the door, and the impression vanished as they both dissolved into laughter again at the sight of the handsome conman with an M16 slung over his shoulder.

He shook his head and hissed, "If you two are done, Hannibal wants Sydney out here. Now."

The laughter was replaced by sober expressions, as sudden as switching channels on a television. Sydney raised a questioning eyebrow at Face as she walked by, and his serious expression set the mood for what she was sure was coming.

Hannibal turned as she entered the room. "We have more company than we bargained for. Stockwell and minions are making their way along the drive, headed this way. They're moving slow, knocking out our surveillance as they go."

"Good thing we were performing manual checks," Face said.

"I never like to rely on electronic surveillance alone and this is why." Hannibal started pacing.

"Stockwell and goons are coming from the wrong direction. We probably still have a bogey coming in from the southeast," Face said.

Murdock stood at the bottom of the stairs, his face reflecting the same intense concentration as the rest of the Team. "No way Stockwell's crew landed in one chopper, and that's all I heard. I think Face is right. Intentional or not, we're being flanked."

"What now, Hannibal?" BA's dark eyes followed his pacing commander.

Hannibal stopped and looked at Sydney, whose gaze had hardened. "What is it, Sydney?"

"I'd bet it's Lew coming in from the southeast. I want him."

Hannibal stretched his back. "We have no idea where he is."

Sydney raised an eyebrow. "So we bait him . . ."

"With you," Hannibal finished. He shook his head. "I don't like splitting ranks with this many scumbags breathing down our necks."

"But if we get Lewis, we may be able to find out who the head scumbag is." Sydney knew that would interest Hannibal. "And if Stockwell gets to him before we do, we may lose our chance."

Hannibal stared at her for a full minute before speaking again, "Here's what we're going to do . . ."

* * *

Sydney strode out and leaned against the sheer rock wall just off the kitchen patio. Face followed with Amy in tow. Their voices were too quiet for Syd to make out what they were saying. Face cut off the conversation by turning resolutely away from Amy and toward Sydney. The dark look on Amy's face was chilling, and Syd thought, for a moment, it was directed at her.

Face distracted her from pondering it. "You need to wait out here for me."

"I heard what Hannibal said, Face."

"Yeah, you've always been so good about listening." Face's derisive tone set Sydney's teeth on edge. She crossed her arms and just glared at him.

"I have to go grab a few things before we go. Amy's going to keep you company."

"And make sure I don't take off?" Sydney snapped.

"Somebody has to. I don't have eyes in the back of my fucking head." Face jabbed a finger into her shoulder. "Stay put, Sydney." He spun, gave Amy an almost pleading look, and strode back into the house.

Amy licked dry lips, and glanced around the small patio before taking a seat at the little bistro table. Behind her, the only view outside of the enclosed space was through a narrow gap between the back of the house and the wall. Moonlight peeked through, and illuminated the area where Amy sat.

"I'm sorry you have to baby sit me," Sydney said sincerely. "I promise I'll wait for Face if you want to head inside."

Amy gazed at her intently for several seconds before speaking. "I don't like this. Obviously, Lewis is coming to us. Why do you have to go find him? Why you and Face?"

Sydney sank into the other chair. "If Stockwell gets his hands on Lewis, we'll never learn the truth. We have to get to him first. As for why me and Face, well . . . the me is obvious. And I have a feeling Hannibal's afraid of what BA or Murdock might do if they got their hands around Lewis' neck. Face is more . . . controlled."

Sydney couldn't decipher the look that crossed Amy's face as she gazed at her, but she found it unsettling.

"Face told me that you were the only other woman he's ever kissed and really meant it." The words came out fast, as if Amy was afraid if she didn't throw them out there they would bite her. "I need to know, Sydney. I need to know what happened."

Sydney stared at the younger woman in shock. She hadn't thought about that incident in nearly 16 years, and she certainly didn't believe Face had.

_April 7, 1971, Zero-dark-thirty_

Murdock still stood behind Sydney, cursing at her. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. Hannibal caught her on her way out of the infirmary and gave her a tight smile and a quick pep talk, before sending her out to get some air. Sydney stumbled out of the building by the nearest exit and cleansed the antiseptic smell of the infirmary from her lungs with gulps of moist, hot jungle air. Thankfully, she had exited on the back side of the building, where no one was likely to see her. She was a mess.

She stood, hands on knees, tears coursing down her cheeks, and sobbed. Murdock had never spoken an unkind word to her in the past year, but he made up for it, once he started talking today. In her head, she knew he didn't mean what he said, but her heart broke every time he threw another expletive-laden rant her way. She had managed to hold it together in front of him, but out here, she let go, the raw edges of her emotions catching the slight breeze and ripping her apart.

She was so wrapped up in her own misery she didn't hear the soft footsteps approaching. A hand touched her shoulder and she looked up to find Face standing over her, concern etched in the tight lines around his mouth and eyes. "Syd . . .?"

She choked and practically threw herself into the conman's arms. He held her until her body-wracking sobs faded to soft hiccups. She felt his hand smoothing over her hair. His heart beat a steady, comforting rhythm under her head, and his arms made her feel safe. She looked up into his eyes, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

She straightened, and started to pull away, but without conscious thought, she slid her hands up to his shoulders. She felt Face's arms tighten around her and they moved together; their lips meeting in an intense kiss that pushed all other thoughts from her mind. She let her hands travel up around his neck, and tangled her fingers in his hair. Face's right hand cradled her head, while his left hand slid around her, wandering below her waist and pulling her hips forward until she could feel the hard planes of his body through their damp clothing. She wondered fleetingly what it would feel like without the clothes, with nothing between them but their mutual desire.

She wasn't sure which one of them broke the embrace. They stood a couple feet apart, staring at each other in shock, when Hannibal appeared at the door. He seemed unaware of what he was interrupting, and his tone, when he spoke, was unusually gentle. "Sydney, I think I have him calmed down. Are you up to talking to him, again?"

It took a few seconds for the Colonel's words to register before she nodded numbly. She tore her uncertain gaze from Face and walked back into the infirmary on shaking legs. Behind her she could hear the murmur of Hannibal and Face talking, but she focused on getting back to Murdock, her guilt propelling her forward.

But guilt about what? She and Murdock were just friends, weren't they? She stopped just outside the inner door, shock rooting her to the spot as she realized what the overwhelming guilt about the encounter with Face meant. She leaned against the wall, her head and heart reeling as she came to grips with a very different playing field where her two best friends in this hell hole were concerned. After several minutes she stood, gathering her scattered thoughts and fortifying herself to face the pilot again.

That was when she realized Murdock wasn't alone. It was the same voice, the same person that later visited Morrison's hootch with Kyeh . . .

*

"Are you ready, Syd?" Face pulled her back to the present as the memory faded. Sydney felt like she was missing something very important, but Face was insistent. "Are you ready to go? You have the vest on, right?"

She nodded, absently patting at the bulk of the bullet-proof vest Hannibal had given her. She glanced at Amy. What had she asked? Amy's rushed question came back and Sydney felt an overwhelming need to explain, but knew she couldn't do so with Face standing there. "Amy, please . . ." She leaned forward, holding Amy's gaze. "Trust me, you have nothing to worry about."

She jerked to her feet, and watched as Amy rose as well. They stood facing each other, and Amy smiled tightly. "We'll talk later." Sydney nodded in acceptance.

Face looked at them, and shook his head, apparently aggravated by their immobility. "We have to go. Stockwell's entourage is moving faster than anticipated." A blast of gunfire punctuated Face's warning.

He thrust a Ruger mini at Sydney and put his hands on Amy's shoulders. "You need to get back to the office, and stay there." He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Stay safe." He looked into her eyes intently, then turned to Sydney. "You remember how to use one of those, right?" She gave a curt nod, and he turned away from the house. "Let's move, Syd. I want to corner Lewis and get the hell back here. He can't be too far off now. Keep sharp."

Face led the way down the narrow space behind the house. After accepting a half-hearted embrace from Amy, Sydney checked the mini's gun clip, as well as her side arm, before following.

* * *

"Whaddaya want, Stockwell?" Hannibal smirked, thinking that Stockwell was slipping. Any good tactician knew you never do battle on dispersive ground, and for Stockwell, this was dispersive ground – it was deep in A-Team territory.

The gunfire had subsided, and the Team had Stockwell and his men pinned down behind a rocky outcrop approximately one klick from the house. Stockwell's only safe exit was back the way he came, and even that was dicey. They had enough ammo to hold them. In fact, Hannibal had just sent Murdock back to the house to re-supply. They could hold Stockwell down for a good long time.

"Colonel Smith, really. Can we not talk like civilized people?" Stockwell called out, his voice condescending as always.

"When you approach my house as a civilized guest, we'll talk, Stockwell." Hannibal ground out. "Right now, what I really want to know is just how deep you're involved in this damn smuggling ring."

Silence for several long seconds. "I take it S.A. Wilson has recovered her memory. Excellent. What do you know of the smuggling ring, Colonel?"

"I'm asking the fucking questions!"

"I am not involved in the smuggling ring, Colonel. But I know who is. I think we should help each other."

"You've been 'helping' us for the last year, General, and look where it's landed us. We don't need that kind of help."

"Then let me offer some guidance, Colonel Smith. Jeremy Lewis is headed this way, and he is not a man to be trifled with."

"We can handle Jeremy Lewis on our own, General. He's just a lackey anyway. I want to know who the head scumbag is. Until then, I'm not taking any chances. For all I know, it could be you."

"Come now, Colonel, I would think by now you know me better than that."

"Shove it, Stockwell."

Hannibal heard a muted "What? What do you mean he's gone?"

Stockwell's voice carried to him a moment later, tense, with a definite edge of unease. "Colonel Smith, I believe we have a mutual problem."

"Tell me about it."

* * *

The clouds played hide and seek with the moon, throwing their trail into deep shadow periodically, and providing good cover for their slow descent of the rocky trail. Face had foregone the main step trail they had carved out – one of Hannibal's more grueling training weeks for the Team – and followed the edge of the scrub brush that led down to the wooded perimeter nearer the lake. Here, at least, they could find some minimal cover. The entire way he kept a wary eye trained on the area around the lake, when he could see it, searching for any sign of movement.

They reached the margins of the forest, and Face stopped behind a large evergreen, pressing his back to the trunk and turning to Sydney, who leaned beside him. "Did you see anything?"

"When it was visible, there was nothing. It was like a freaking still life all the way down."

Face rolled his shoulders so his tank top stopped the annoying sweat that trickled down his spine. He slid around the trunk and leaned out to gaze at the lake, his eyes scanning the perimeter under the light of the moon. Almost immediately, the entire landscape was cast in shadow by another cloud, and he leaned back and shook his head. "The clouds could take a hike any time. I was glad for the cover while we were coming down, but now they're just a pain in the ass."

"You can bet Lew's taking advantage of the cover, too," Syd said. "You know we spent the majority of our time in enemy territory, avoiding detection. Lew was damn good at it."

Face grunted. He didn't need Syd pointing out what he was already well aware of. That was what had him so on-edge about this part of the plan. "So, what do you suggest?"

"I'm going out to the dock and wait for him. You can wait here."

Sydney straightened, and Face reached out and grabbed her arm. "What are you, suicidal or something? Lew can pick you off out there."

"He's not coming to kill me." Sydney jerked her arm out of his grasp. "He wants something, and I intend to find out what it is."

"You know, I'm thinking we should have talked about this with Hannibal. Personally, I've been operating under the assumption that killing you is precisely what Lewis has in mind."

"I was intended as bait. Let's bait him."

"There's bait, and there's bait, Syd. Let's be smart about this."

He couldn't see her face, but he knew the stubborn expression that was likely there. He was ready to wrestle her to the ground if need be, when she suddenly leaned against the tree trunk again, her gaze fixed toward the dock. "Well I'll be damned, there he is."

Lew's voice carried to them from where he stood between the bench at the base of the stairs and the dock. "Come on out, Syd. You are in danger, but not from me. We need to talk."

Face felt his scalp tingle. "Are you two psychically connected or something?"

"We did work closely together for over a year and a half, Face. You develop a sort of sixth sense where your partner is concerned."

Syd pushed away, but Face stopped her, again with a hand on her arm. "What are you doing?"  
"I'm going to talk to him. You have a good vantage point here, Face. And I notice you exchanged the M16 for your Bravo 51, so I'm thinking you expected something like this."

Face ground his teeth. "You think he's alone?"

"I'm betting my life on it."

He and Sydney looked at each other for several long seconds. He finally nodded in capitulation and let go of her arm. He dropped to his knees, and slid from the tree to a low scrub shrub growing nearby. He positioned himself flat out and set out the legs of his rifle so his position was semi comfortable and the gun was stable. He trained his sight on the tall figure by the lake. He judged the distance, adjusted for the slight breeze and the angle of the slope. "Alright, make sure you keep to the left of my line of sight, or we're both screwed. Walk straight out from the tree toward the dock, and don't get any closer to him then this edge of the lake. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Tell him that if he makes a gaddammed move I'm going to blow his fucking brains out. I hope to God he's out here alone, because if I'm flanked we're screwed again."

Sydney's voice was low and humorless. "Here's to no screwing. At least tonight." He glanced up as she stepped into the moonlight, and sent up a tense prayer – to no screwing, and no screwing up.

* * *

Haley had awakened as soon as Amy came back to the office. She cracked her eyes open a slit and examined the adults, Maggie, Amy, and Dr. Richter, standing in a tight circle behind the desk, talking in low voices.

She had heard gunfire, and felt her anxiety about her mother's whereabouts mounting. She had been bundled away into the corner on a small cot when they moved to the office, and knew that everyone, including her mother, had then forgotten about her.

The anxiety and anger overrode her initial paralyzing fear, and fueled an overwhelming desire to be out of this room and see for herself what was going on. All had been quiet for awhile now, and that was almost worse then the periodic bursts of gunfire.

She checked to make sure the adults were still absorbed in their conversation before slipping out of the cot, and crawling behind the furniture toward the door. She took one last glance back to make sure they weren't looking, then slipped out the door soundlessly.

The living room was dark, but through the partially open door of the security room she spied Frankie with what appeared to be a large, complicated game remote on his lap, watching a bank of video screens intently. The rear sliding doors were in his direct line of sight, making that exit too risky.

She turned and crept to the kitchen, where she could leave unseen and unheard via the kitchen patio. She moved between the house and the rock wall, away from the periodic explosions of sound. Surely her mother wouldn't be anywhere near there.

Once out on the back deck, she peered down toward the lake, where she knew from what she had overheard of Hannibal's plan, her mother and Face had gone. Her mother believed they would find her old partner, but Haley hoped that her own suspicion about who was approaching from the southeast was correct.

She peeked around the end of the house. Everything looked quiet, and there hadn't been any gunfire in some time. She moved slowly, after the moon slipped behind a cloud. She crouched and hurried to the top of the steps leading down to the lake. She moved down the steps, and felt a thrill when she saw Jerry standing in front of the bench at the lake.

* * *

Sydney stepped out into the open, holding the mini so that the muzzle pointed at the ground. Lew stood motionless as she made her way down the slope to the edge of the lake. She stopped about 30 feet from him. The moon had reappeared from behind a cloud and revealed Lew's features . He looked haggard, like he hadn't slept in awhile, and his full, expressive mouth was set in a grim line. "Is the pilot up there?"

Sydney shook her head. "It's Face, and he's got a bead on you right now. You remember what a good shot he is, right?"

"I remember." He smirked at her. "If I was here to kill you, Syd, you'd be dead right now. You and the Lieutenant both."

"Well, gee, guess I should thank you." Sydney took a deep breath. "What do you want?"

"I'm here because you're in danger."

"Funny, I thought I was in danger because you were here."

"Clever, Sydney. But then you always were, weren't you?"

"Who do you work for?"

"Myself."

Syd brought the mini up and leveled it at him. "You know what I mean. Who calls the shots in the smuggling ring?"

Haley shot into the clearing and ran toward Sydney. "Mom, no!"

* * * *


	4. Part 4: Finale

**A/N: For those who have been following the story, this the the final portion. I've reposted the remainder of the story in fewer sections (same chapters, just too lazy to reload all of them ;). The beginning has some significant rewrites (particularly Part 1), including additional prologues and scenes, but I think this will still make sense if you don't go back and re-read the re-written and fully edited version of the story in its entirety. **

**Hope you find this ending satisfying. Please don't forget to review and let me know how I did! Thanks ~ Kenna**

**Prologue to Chapter 21**

Ike recognized the lanky form of his former protégé heading back toward the Team's stronghold. Stockwell was preoccupied with his standoff with Colonel Smith, so Ike took his chance and crept out through the hole Murdock's departure left in the A-Team line, and followed the pilot. Years of practical exercise in surveillance allowed Ike to move silently in the shadows, following Murdock's much less subtle movements. But then, Ike had to admit, Murdock had no reason to be stealthy once he got behind the line. As far as he knew, there was no one he needed to evade.

Murdock didn't break stride as he loped up the steps, disappearing into the house. Ike waited for a full minute before skirting the tree line that ended about 100 yards from front door, and making his way to the back of the house, just below the mid-slope ridge the structure sat upon. He reached the stairs that led down to the lake in time to hear a high-pitched, "Mom, no!"

**CHAPTER 21: Deadly Dénouement**

Murdock made straight for the ammunition storage in the locked compartment in the closet, but Frankie's voice stopped him part way there. "Murdock, we got a problem."

"I don't have time, Frank –"

"Somebody followed you back here."

Murdock jogged to the room and bent to look at the frozen image on the video screen. "Damn. Get Hannibal on the com."

"Crow's nest to Hannibal, come in Hannibal."

"I got a situation, Frankie."

Murdock grabbed the mic. "We got a situation here, too Hannibal. I was followed back to the house by –"

"Ike Cheney."

Murdock's brows knit. "How'd you know that?"

"Stockwell told me. Shit. Maybe he is on the up and up."

"What's Stockwell's story?"

"Hang on."

It was a tense minute spent staring at Frankie, who looked confused and nervous. They both jumped when Hannibal's voice finally came over the com. "He says 'we're,' and I quote, under contract to the FBI, and that Cheney has been under investigation for some time, but they've never been able to nail him."

From outside Haley's soaring soprano reached them. "Mom, no!"

Murdock stiffened, his mind hitting overdrive as the scenarios that could accompany that outcry flashed through his head, each one worse than the last. "Hannibal, I gotta get down to the lake. Something's wrong with Syd, and Haley's down there."

"Face was taking the far slope, and when he left, he had his Bravo."

Murdock took several slow breaths, allowing the logic of what Hannibal was saying to allay his initial panic. "Hopefully he has things under control, but I'm guessing he could use a hand."

"Go, Captain. We're headed back your way. Frankie, you stay put."

Sydney stared at her daughter trying to contain the panic that engulfed her. She quickly lowered the muzzle of her gun so it again pointed at the ground, and concentrated on regulating her breathing. Face was still up there. If Lewis tried anything, Face would take him down. She had faith in his ability. Unfortunately, Haley, standing about half-way between Lewis and Sydney, was probably directly in Face's line of sight.

Sydney was surprised to see what appeared to be affection reflected in the smile Lewis flashed at the girl rushing to his rescue. "Hey sweetheart. I'm glad to see you're Ok."

Haley smiled at him. "I'm really sorry about the phone, Jerry. I can't believe you found us."

"I told you I'd keep an eye on you, no matter what, didn't I?" He held out a hand.

Sydney finally overcame the inertia of her initial shock. "Haley, come to me." Her voice was commanding, sharp. She began edging closer to Haley, which also brought her closer to Lewis, and past Face's mandated boundary of the edge of the lake, but it couldn't be helped.

Haley turned uncertain eyes on her mother. "Mom, Jerry's a friend."

"Jerry?" Sydney's eyes narrowed. "How do you know him?"

"He's been watching us - keeping us safe - ever since we moved to McLean. He and Dr. Asher were working on a plan to help you recover your past."

Sydney turned to Lewis. "What the hell have you been telling her?"

"The plan was always to bring you home, Syd. It just took me a little longer then I anticipated."

"But you were involved in the smuggling ring," Sydney said. "You were the one . . ." her voice cracked. "You raped me and left me for dead in Laos. You killed Asher."

Haley stared from Lewis to Sydney. "No, that can't be." She turned her gaze toward Lew, her expression a mixture of repulsion and anger. "If you're the one who raped Mom, that means you . . . you knew, didn't you? You knew you might be my father. All along you knew and you never told me. How could you?"

With each angry statement, Haley had taken another step toward Lewis. Sydney jogged the last few feet to get to her daughter's side. "Haley, stop."

Lew gazed at them, sad but not apologetic. "I did what I had to do to keep you alive, Sydney. If I hadn't performed the interrogation as instructed, you would be dead. And when I left you in Laos, you were very much alive. Who do you think sent the Hmong to find you? I helped train those men. "

Sydney's brows furrowed. Was he telling the truth? She reminded herself that the best lie always contained an element of truth. "What about Asher?"

"David Asher was the only man who knew everything. He was ready to turn you over. I couldn't let him do that. Not after all the years of keeping you off the radar."

Sydney stared at him, her hands tightening on the mini. Lew's story was too fantastic to believe. "Bull shit."

Lewis moved forward a step, and Sydney shifted so that she was between him and her daughter, and brought up the gun so it pointed at his chest. He stopped, looked at her almost pleadingly. "I care about you Sydney. You have to believe me. What I did, I did to keep you alive."

"You care about me? You had one hell of a way of showing it, Lewis."

Sydeny felt a chill run down her spine at the sudden change in Lew's entire demeanor: his face tightened, his eyes flashed and the timbre of his voice held a definite sinister quality. "I told you how I felt. I tried to make you understand that we belonged together. But you had to hook up with that goddam pilot. He's the one you should be careful of, Sydney . . ." Lew moved closer, jabbing a finger at her.

"Murdock would never hurt me –"

"He's an old friend of the enemy, Syd. Ask him. Ask him about –"

The gunshot was deafening, echoing off the surrounding rock, and rolling across the lake like thunder. Sydney pulled Haley to the ground with her, covering her head. She looked up in time to watch Lewis fall to the ground next to her, leonine eyes staring unseeingly.

Her first thought was that Face had taken his shot, but the bullet had entered near Lew's left ear, so the angle was wrong. The shot had to come from the steps.

She looked down at her daughter. "Haley, I want you to run up the slope behind me, straight toward the first big evergreen. Face is up there. Stick with him – no matter what happens."  
"No, I won't leave you," Haley hissed.

"You'll do as you're told, young lady. Now go!" Sydney's tone left no room for debate. Haley nodded in capitulation and scurried up the hill, as a man appeared at the bottom of the steps.

"Are you and your daughter alright, S.A. Wilson? I didn't want to take any chances, and lose the shot."

Sydney stood slowly, the phrase 'didn't want to take any chances' echoing through her memory. "Isaac Cheney." Her voice sounded like it came from far away, even to her own ears.

Cheney held his gun at his side but didn't put it away, as he moved to stand next to Lew's body. "You remember me." His gaze was wary and tense.

Behind her, Sydney could still hear Haley climbing the slope. She had to buy time. She kept her tone even. "Of course I remember, you were the one who gave me my first assignment in country."

Some of the tension left Cheney's face. He nodded and smiled as he stepped over Lew's body and toward Sydney. "The same. I really did appreciate the job you did. It set my mind at ease about Captain Murdock's extracurricular activities. He was my protégé in the CIA, you know. And, I knew his father."

Sydney swallowed, and chanced a glance back to check on Haley's progress. She was nearly out of range. She nodded and looked back at Cheney. "You were with the task force, too – looking into the smuggling ring."

"Yes, I was." Cheney smiled at her, his gaze unblinking, chilling. "I heard you talking to Lewis. You remember his involvement. You understand why I had to do what I just did, right?"

"Of course I understand."

The sound of Haley scrambling up the slope had faded. Sydney's finger tightened on the trigger of the mini, her muscles tense. Cheney's smile was frozen on his face. He knew she knew.

"It appears that we are at an impasse, S.A. Wilson."

"Yes, it does appear so."

"I assume you are not down here alone. Who did your daughter join up there?"

"Lieutenant Peck."

"Ah, the A-Team sniper, right? Colonel Smith always was an excellent tactician."

Sydney noticed Ike was being careful to keep her in front of him. He was also edging closer.

"Don't move a muscle, Ike. I'd hate to have to shoot my own mentor." Sydney felt her knees go weak at the sound of Murdock's voice.

Ike dropped the gun. "You must be getting older, Murdock. It took your sweet time getting down here. Good thing I was here to stop Lewis."

Murdock walked into view from behind Cheney. "Hands in the air, Ike – slow."

Ike did has he was told. Murdock talked to Sydney without taking his eyes off the old spy. "Syd, pat him down. He'll have a double-shoulder holster, an ankle holster and probably a couple waist-band holsters, so don't be shy."

She could hear Face working his way down the slope as she began tossing guns aside: two from his shoulder holster, and one from his ankle holster.

The first waist-band holster positioned at the front was empty – Sydney figured it had held the gun he already discarded. She reached around to the waist-band holster positioned at the small of his back and pulled out yet another gun.

She had just tossed it aside with the others, and was going to finish one more personal search when Cheney brought his arm down and pinned her right arm in place while he grabbed her left arm, bringing a snub-nosed gun up to her temple. Sydney cursed. Where the hell had that come from?

"Fuck!" Exploded from Murdock when he realized what was happening, and he heard Face's echoing response. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Cheney's breath was labored. "Don't try it, Captain. I'll shoot her. I won't kill her, but I will shoot her."

"You aren't getting out of here, Ike. It's over."

"I taught you better than that, Murdock."

"I swear to God, Ike, anything happens to her and I'll hunt you down."

"If you let me leave, I promise you, I'll let her go. You'll be free to live your life, but she's my only safe exit now, Murdock. She has to come with me."

"That isn't going to happen." Murdock's voice was low and dangerous.

Ike's smile was tense. "Sure it is, HM.

"Drop it, asshole." Face had reached the bottom of the slope, and had Cheney in his sight. He looked almost as pissed as Murdock felt.

"You got nowhere to go, Ike." He stared at his old mentor, and the memory came back, clear as day: Cheney helping Lewis carry the body bag holding Syd out to a waiting jeep by the bunker.

Ike shook his head. "Keep your distance, gentlemen. It would be a shame if the lady was hurt."

Sydney stomped back on Cheney's instep, and used her low stature to back into him below his center of gravity, throwing him off balance. She flipped him over her shoulder, and pulled her backup weapon, aiming it unerringly at Cheney who lay, winded, at her feet. "That's for talking about me like I'm not fucking there."

Murdock nearly collapsed in relief. He looked at Sydney and grinned. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"

"Once or twice." Sydney's eyes never wavered from Cheney. "Face, please get Haley back up to the house. I think we have things under control down here."

Murdock locked eyes with Face and nodded. "We're fine."

As Face scrambled back up the hill, Murdock handed his gun to Syd and knelt next to Cheney. "Can you stand, Ike?"

"I think so." Ike's voice was broken by ragged breaths, as he tried to recover from being slammed on his back.

"Just be grateful is was a nice flat area." He held out a hand to the older man, who took the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet, grunting and wincing in discomfort.

Ike glanced up the slope, where Face and Haley could now be seen making their way back up to the house. He turned to Murdock. "It doesn't have to end like this, HM. I'm not the bad guy here."

Murdock's jaw clenched, his eyes locked on his old mentor. He was so intent on Ike that Sydney's voice startled him when she spoke.

"You were the one in Morrison's hootch with Kyeh . . . and you were the one that told Lewis to . . ." Sydney swallowed convulsively, and Murdock recognized her struggle for control. "Find out what I knew and then kill me. I'm only here because Lew didn't follow your orders. I recognize your voice."

Murdock looked back at Ike. He could see the old spy weighing his options and carefully choosing his next words. "But you never saw who gave those orders, S.A. Wilson. Fifteen years is a long time, can you be certain?"

Syd's blue eyes tightened, narrowed. "It was you, you son of a bitch."

"The accusation of a long-term amnesiac." Ike's gaze was bland. "You'll never see me behind bars. There is nothing to tie me to the smuggling ring."

"Ah, but there you are wrong, Ike." Murdock said. "I saw you that day. See, when I left Syd and Lew and went back to the heliport, the chopper wasn't ready. I started having second thoughts about leaving Syd in Lew's care, dead or alive. So I headed back to the bunker. Of course, when I saw my old mentor, and I thought, friend, helping Lewis carry a body bag out of the bunker I decided Syd was in pretty good hands and left. If I had know then what I know now – _you_ would have been dead."

*

Ike shook his head. "Ten years in a mental ward doesn't make for a terribly credible witness either, HM." He put on a sympathetic smile. "Let's not do this. You and I both know that I'm unlikely to be convicted of anything. Play your cards right, and you and Sydney and your daughter could live out your life in comfort. I would do that for you."

"That's very generous of you, Ike." Murdock's face was thoughtful, and Ike smiled internally. He had him.

"All the two of you have to do is back up my contention that Lewis was the one who was responsible for all of it. Do that, and I will make sure you have enough money that you never have to worry."

"How much money are we talking?" Sydney asked. Ike's smile broadened. He had her, too.

"100 mil in Swiss bank accounts. I'll give you half. It's enough to start a new life."

Murdock shook his head. "Why didn't you just take the money and run?"

"I have a family. Running isn't an option. Besides, Lewis was so cooperative, going after Sydney. In the end, you two finding each other made Lew's setup a bit easier – he couldn't hide that he was after you, specifically. The tricky part was making sure I arrived in time to shut him up."

"So that's what this was all about?" Sydney lowered her gun, her gaze thoughtful. "You wanted Lewis to come after me because it made him look guilty. But you knew you had to kill him before he could talk. He was in too deep, knew too much; but he was the perfect patsy."

Ike grimaced. "You make me sound so calculating, Sydney. The truth is that I really hoped I could arrange the whole thing such that Lewis took the fall without significantly involving you. It's why I wormed my way into the project as soon as I heard you were in Virginia. I thought I could frame Lewis in the background. Unfortunately, when the two of you ran into each other at the grocery store, it shortened my timeframe too much. I'm just glad that now, we can at least make _your_ ending a happy one. You both deserve it." He smiled at them, a co-conspirator.

"Let me get this straight." Murdock stroked his chin, and looked at Ike in awe. "You were trying to end all this without involving us?" He turned to Sydney, arms wide, mock comprehension on his face. "You hear that, sweetheart. I told you he was my friend." When Murdock turned back to Ike, his face reflected anything but friendship. Ike's smile dimmed.

Syd snorted. "Yeah, great friend."

Cheney's head swiveled to look at her, then back at Murdock, worry etched in the deep lines around his eyes. His voice took on a mocking lilt, with a desperate edge. "I'm offering you more money that you've ever seen before. Enough money that Haley could have a world-class education and you could live out the rest of your life cruising the south seas and eating caviar. Don't be fools."

"You can take your money and shove it, Cheney." Murdock turned. "Did you get enough, Hannibal?"

"Oh, I'd say we got plenty, Captain. " Hannibal appeared at the base of the steps, bit off the end of a cigar and lit it. He blew a smoke ring into the air and grinned, his ice-blue eyes shining with triumph. "I love it when a plan comes together."

Sydney smoothed Haley's hair, and sighed. The exhausted girl had finally fallen asleep, curled up on the end of the lounge, with her head on Syd's lap. The early morning adventure had taken a toll on both of them, but at least now it was over. Syd had chosen a spot on the deck at the end of the house; away from all of the officials with their endless questions that had set up shop on the main deck. She had told them all she was going to for today. Maybe later, when she had time to get her head wrapped around it, she would be able to help more. For now, they had what they needed to get the ball rolling and hopefully take down the entire smuggling ring.

This deck was sheltered from a full view of the lake, but Syd had turned the lounge so it faced the rock wall anyway. It might be awhile before she could go down there without feeling nauseous. With a wry smile, she recalled thinking that this was a slice of heaven on earth when she arrived a scant two days ago. It was funny how quickly heaven could turn to hell.

She was still thinking along these lines, her thoughts turning darker, when Face touched her shoulder, and gently prodded her out of her own head. "Hey, Syd. Got the kid to sleep, huh?"

Sydney nodded and looked down at Haley. "She needs it." She glanced over at Face, as he swung a chair around to take a seat next to her. He looked as weary as she felt. "Are they done questioning everyone?"

Face snorted. "They're done with me. They just started with Murdock. I get the impression that's going to take awhile. Several of the agents that showed up seem to know him."

"I noticed." Sydney leaned back and closed her eyes. "Makes you wonder just how long he was in country before he transferred to the Army."

"I thought you saw his file?"

"I saw what they wanted me to see of his file, Face. And you know, yourself, how tight-lipped Murdock is about that part of his life."

Face shrugged. "I always got the impression he shared with you."

"No. I just understood because I was in the same boat. Discretion is like a cult religion when you're in covert ops. You either practice it, or you're dead."

Face gave her a long, hard stare. "So, did you ever tell Murdock you weren't CIA back then?"

"No."

"So even after you told us the truth, you were still lying." Face shook his head.

"Don't get all self-righteous on me, Face. You lie all the time."

"Not to my friends, I don't."

"Bull shit."

"I don't lie to my friends."

Sydney opened her eyes and turned to peer at Face, who shifted. "I don't."

"Then what do you call the crap you fed Amy last night?" Syd's voice was flat. She wasn't really angry with Face. More irritated, and maybe a little worried. "I'm 'the only other woman you've ever kissed and meant it'? C'mon Face, we agreed that . . . incident was stress-induced."

Face avoided her gaze, his jaw tight. "Actually, _you_ told _me_ it was the stress of the situation." He snorted humorlessly. "In fact, as I recall, you were, how did you put it? 'Sorry it ever happened.' That was right before you told me it could never happen again."

He turned, his face studiously emotionless. Sydney ground her teeth. Now she was getting angry. "You never showed the least bit of interest in me, Face. Admit it. Admit that you were using that as just another wall; another thing to push Amy away."

His lips curved up in a guilty smile. "I won't deny that. Amy was annoyingly persistent last night and I was getting a little desperate. That doesn't change the validity of the statement." He shrugged, his expression reflecting regret. "Not that it matters now. You made your choice 15 years ago. Amy made her choice last night. I'd have to say, I think you're the smarter of the two."

There it was. That was what had Syd worried. She didn't envy Amy the task of breaking down those barriers Face had up against emotionally-intimate relationships. "You are such a fucking idiot, sometimes, Face."

"Oh, that's nice. I confess my love, and you tell me I'm a fucking idiot." He was grinning now.

Sydney shook her head; she wouldn't be pulled into the teasing banter. She turned to face him, her voice low and intense. "Why can't you just accept that Amy loves you? She's willing to put up with an awful of the shrapnel to be close to you. That has to count for something."

The grin disappeared. "Just stay out of it, Sydney. It's none of your fucking business."

Sydney gritted her teeth and slipped out from under Haley. She stood facing the conman, hands on hips. "You made it my business, Face. You want me to stay out of it, then you damn well better not wedge me into the middle of it."

She swung away from him and strode into the house.

Haley sat up, very much awake. "You're in trouble."

Face ran a hand back through his hair. "No shit."

It was late afternoon and the last of the choppers had finally left. They had all gathered around the fire pit, too tired to think about food, to keyed up to think about sleep.

Stockwell had made all of the necessary arrangements to have Cheney put in Federal custody. He had finally left, but only after extracting a promise that they would return to Virginia within the week. "There is much to do, gentlemen . . . and lady."

"It turned out, Stockwell had been in contact with the FBI, who pulled Peter Quinn out of retirement as soon as they heard that their internal affairs investigator, Special Agent Sydney Wilson, was alive and well." Hannibal shook his head. "Who would have thought that Stockwell would wind up on the right side, yet again. I figured from the get go he was in this Charlie Foxtrot up to his eyeballs. I may have to accept the fact, once and for all, that Stockwell is a good guy – even if he is an ass."

Murdock, Sydney and Haley shared a single lounge, stacked together like bread sliding out of the bag. Murdock's arms were tight around Sydney, and Sydney's arms were tight around Haley. Everyone was worried about the young girl, who looked totally washed out, her cheeks pale, eyes red-rimmed and sunken. Sydney squeezed Haley and kissed her forehead.

Haley's eyes blinked, and she shot Sydney an exasperated look. "I'm fine, Mother. I'm just strung out. We haven't slept in like, forever."

"So close your eyes and sleep," Sydney suggested.

"I don't want to miss anything," Haley insisted.

"I still can't believe it was Cheney, all along," Murdock shook his head.

Sydney shuddered. "Cheney was the one who told Lewis to find out what I had told you. He ordered the interrogation, and Lewis was afraid if he didn't comply, Cheney would take over. He had to make it look good, but he stopped short of killing me. Lewis must have told Cheney I was dead, just like he did Murdock. Then he stuffed me in the body bag."

"And when I went back to the bunker I saw Lew and Cheney carrying you out in the body bag. It reinforced the idea that you were dead. Besides, when I saw Cheney –"

"Someone you knew and trusted," Sydney interjected.

"I figured there was nothing more I could do. So I headed back to extract the Team."

"Meanwhile, Lewis took me into an old camp just over the Laos border." Sydney looked thoughtful. "A camp where he had helped train a group of Hmong tribesmen. He left me there, and sent the Hmong to come get me and take me to the hospital."

"Then, he sent Asher to retrieve you and take you back to the states –," Hannibal said.

"And to make sure I didn't remember too much," Sydney said. "Which wasn't a problem since I didn't really remember anything. Asher's work was already half done for him."

Murdock concluded, "Once they realized you had global amnesia, they probably cooked up their plan to keep you off Cheney's radar. As long as Cheney thought you were dead, you were safe."

Face stood leaning against the railing. "But I still don't understand why Lewis killed his cohort, Asher."

Hannibal raised a hand. "I have a theory on that. Asher figured out who the head honcho was. Lewis was planning on pulling out – retiring, if you will – from the smuggling business and Asher saw his golden goose flying the coop. He was going to turn Syd in to Cheney as his gift to the chief scumbag. Lewis couldn't allow that."

Murdock grunted. "In a screwed up, sick kind of way, Lew _was_ trying to keep you safe, Syd. Guess I owe him for that."

"I think we both do," Sydney agreed.

A sad smile curved Haley's pale lips. "We all do."

THE END

**EPILOGUE**

Sydney had a warm smile on her face when she opened the door. "Hey, Maggie! I didn't realize you were back on the east coast."

"I flew in on the red-eye." Maggie gave the young woman a weary smile and held out a large manila envelope. "I didn't think this should wait, and I just couldn't deliver the news over the phone."

Sydney swallowed, her smile faltering as she took the envelope from Maggie's hand. "So?"

Maggie pursed her lips. "Honestly, I couldn't bring myself to look."

Syd looked at the envelope like she thought it might sprout fangs and bite her. Then she stepped back and opened the door wide. "Where are my manners? Come on in. Can I get you some coffee?"

Sydney dropped the envelope in the center of the small oval table in the kitchen and busied herself with making coffee. Maggie moved to the table and took a seat. She was exhausted. She never slept well when traveling, but she was looking forward to seeing John. She had missed him during the last few weeks.

She looked up at the preoccupied young woman. "Where are Haley and HM?"

Sydney chuckled. "At the airfield, where else? I swear Haley is bound and determined to get her pilot's license before she gets her driver's license. Of course, the whole process has HM on cloud nine."

Sydney slid the coffee filter into place and pushed the button to start it perking, then turned to Maggie, shifting nervously. "Can I get you some breakfast? Or maybe some juice?" She put a hand on the refrigerator and looked at Maggie expectantly.

"Sydney, please, sit down and open the envelope. It's killing me."

Sydney stepped toward the table, twisting the diamond ring on her left ring finger nervously. "Maybe we should wait until they get home."

Maggie just gaped at her, and Sydney dropped into the chair. "I can't wait until they get home."

She pulled the envelope toward herself and slid a finger under the flap and slit the paper along the fold. She pulled out the lab report inside and stared at the cover page.

"Well, what does it say?"

"What I expected it to say. Not that it really matters, but . . . HM is Haley's father." Sydney's smile lit her entire face. "I knew it all along."

Maggie snorted and they both dissolved into laughter.

Sydney stood as the coffee maker gurgled its final gulps of dark brown liquid into the pot. "I'm just glad it's over and we can get on with our life. Honestly, I think Haley's forgotten all about it. She and Murdock have really hit is off with this flying thing. They're growing really close."

Maggie smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Maybe now you can all settle down into your new life."

Sydney set a cup in front of Maggie and slid into her seat, holding a glass of water. She smiled at Maggie. "I don't think things will settle down too soon."

Maggie took a sip of the coffee and sighed. "Oh?"

"I'm pregnant, Maggie. Due sometime in June next year."

Maggie chuckled. "Not wasting any time, are you?"

Sydney's smile was rueful, but happy. "We already wasted 15 years. I told Murdock when this all started, I'm not wasting another minute of my time with him."

Maggie smiled. "Amen."

**AUTHOR'S FOOTNOTES**:

For those A-Team fanatics that may notice a couple of inconsistencies with accepted dogma. Please no flames regarding these, I did the best I could.

re: Syd's early obsession with the Flying Tigers: Murdock's jacket is not a Flying Tiger's jacket. However, Syd's mind has erroneously linked the Tiger (on his jacket) and Flying (Murdock, obviously), coming up with the Flying Tigers was the result, hence getting nowhere since Murdock is not a Flying Tiger. I know his jacket says "Da Nang 1970" . . . I don't know why, didn't explore why . . . am curious 

re: Murdock acting saner than usual: Yes, I generally write Murdock saner than he was on the show. In this instance, though, I took my cues from the final episode of the series, in which he is almost disturbingly normal-acting. It's my fantasy; if you don't like the way I write Murdock, don't read my stuff 

re: Wheel of Fortune timeline: There are two references in the Wheel of Fortune episode to Murdock's time with the CIA. According to the scumbag kidnapper, he worked for the CIA 12/1967 (a little early for my timeline, but doable – I don't delve into the beginnings of his CIA career) and again in 4/72 (which would never work in my timeline). Assuming he was in southeast Asia for both stints, this would put him over 4 years in the area. I made the assumption that the 4/1972 reference was a mistake (this would have been after the Bank of Hanoi job) and put that, instead occurring around 4/1970 – which would be when he worked not strictly for the CIA, but for the task force that was investigating drug and gun smuggling. Call it writer's prerogative. It might be interesting to explore why Murdock would have been working for the CIA after the Team was on the hook for the Bank of Hanoi job . . .

Look at that, three little notes, and already two more plot bunnies for future stories. Honestly, is there any wonder I keep coming back to write A-Team fanfiction? These guys offer a treasure-trove of plot possibilities!


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